When I Grow Up
by iloveyoumisshannigan
Summary: Miss Hannigan's backstory - how did she get to where she is in Annie? (Annie 1982) Disclaimer: I don't own anything about Annie except for a strong love for it. (Also there is A LOT of talk about alcohol and cigarettes here so if that offends you or whatever I suggest avoiding)
1. Twelve

Agatha Hannigan had realised from very early on that life wasn't fair. Pretty much as soon as she could walk, in fact. Life wasn't fair and there was nothing she could do to change that. She'd had almost twelve years of life being fair, and she'd almost given up hope. But Agatha clung to the dream she had of a loving home with people who loved her and cared about her, and where she would be able to happy. Because she wasn't now. She wasn't happy at all.

None of these rather dreary thoughts were very effective in helping her sleep, but it didn't matter. Her mother still wasn't home, and Agatha knew that until she came back, there would be absolutely no point in trying to get any sleep. She'd only be woken up again by the yelling of her father and mother as they fought. Again. Nothing new. Instead, she stared thoughtfully at the ceiling, listening to the soft sound of her brother, Rooster, breathing from the bed next to hers, and enjoying the rare moment of peace and quiet.

Agatha loved the night. Calm, peaceful and lonely. No one to yell at her, no one to hurt her. Nothing she had to do. She was free to do whatever she wanted - within her own head, anyway. Rooster stirred slightly next to her, and she smiled. At least she was related to one decent human being. She had a brief moment where she almost fell asleep, and then she heard the front door to their small apartment creak, and she braced herself for the storm she knew was about to come.

Agatha heard her mother stumble past the bedroom door and held her breath. Sure enough, less than a minute later, she heard the raised voices of both her parents as they began to fight yet again.

"Well, look who it is, stumbling in at two in the morning for the third time this week!" She could hear her father's voice dripping with contempt.

"Screw you, Steven," her mother muttered, clearly _very_ drunk.

"Where the hell have you been, Beth?!" Her father sounded even angrier than usual.

"The hell's it to you?!" Agatha could hear the thick slur in her mother's voice.

"I don't work the whole goddamn day to then come back and have to stay up until two in the morning for the pathetic drunk that is my wife to get home from the goddamn bar?!"

"Like you don't spend more of your time gambling and flirting with that goddamn floozy of yours?!"

"I earn all the money there is in this household!"

"Yeah? Well that would explain why it's so goddamn awful then!" She hiccoughed and Agatha could practically smell the whiskey on her breath from the bedroom. She was just debating whether or not now would be a good time to pick up her book and simply ignore their fighting, when she heard Rooster quietly get out of bed and pad softly over to hers.

"Aggie?" He was whispering, and she could hear the tremble in his voice.

"Yeah?" She whispered back.

"Can I come in your bed?"

Agatha nodded and opened the covers for her younger brother to crawl in. He clung tightly to her and she wrapped her arms around him as they both silently listened to their parents fight.

Eventually, after a great deal more yelling, arguing and swearing, Agatha heard the door to her parents' bedroom slam shut, followed by the horrible sound of her mother being sick. She covered her ears and waited until she thought it was safe. Cautiously, she took her hands away from her head, and listened. Finally, it was quiet. She slowly sat up and turned on the light, wiping away her brother's tears and hugging him tightly. "Hey, don't cry. I'm here," she whispered.

Suddenly, the bedroom door was flung open, and Agatha froze, scared. She saw her mother leaning against the door frame, clutching a half-empty bottle of whiskey and glaring at her two frightened children.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?! It's the middle of the freaking night! Daniel, get back in your own goddamn bed, and Agatha, go the hell to sleep."

Rooster hurriedly got back into his own bed, but Agatha stayed sat up. "How are we supposed to get to sleep with you and Dad arguing all night?" She asked bravely.

Her mother narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me?!"

At that point Agatha lost confidence and just lay back down in bed. "Nothing," she whispered. She watched as her mother took a slow sip of whiskey, surveying them both. Then, Beth turned off the light and slammed the door. Agatha curled up tight under her thin covers, relieved that it hadn't been worse. If she was honest, she was surprised her mother had remembered her name; normally she just got some vague variation of it. Agatha could hear Rooster softly crying across the room, but she didn't dare get up and comfort him. Instead, she waited until she could tell he'd fallen asleep, and finally closed her own eyes, yawning. She was very tired, but that was something she was used to.

...

The next morning, Agatha woke up at seven to the sound of her alarm clock ringing loudly. She turned on the light and sat up slowly, yawning. Only five hours sleep. Again. But she needed to get ready for school. And help Rooster.

She gradually worked up the motivation to roll out of bed, and to shake her brother awake. Somehow, he always slept through the alarm. Agatha gently shook his shoulder and he woke up slowly. He saw her and smiled. "Hi."

Agatha smiled. "Morning."

"Is Mom still in bed?"

Agatha gave him a hug. "It's alright, yeah. I think she's probably still asleep."

"Oh." Rooster pushed off the covers and sat up now, yawning.

Seeing as her brother was awake, Agatha left him to get dressed, and went to pack lunch for them both, and to make breakfast. Her dad would have already left, and she was fairly sure her mother would be asleep. Cautiously, Agatha pushed open the door to her parents' room to make sure. As she had suspected, her mother curled up in the covers, sleeping. No doubt she'd wake with a massive hangover. She quietly shut the door again and went into the small kitchen. She didn't want to wake her mother; she was almost worse hungover than drunk.

Agatha was just wrapping up their packed lunches when Rooster came running in. "What's for breakfast?"

Agatha opened the cupboard. "Well, we've basically got bread or apples. You want both?"

Rooster nodded, looking slightly let down. Agatha gave him a slice of bread and an apple, before going to get dressed herself. The only clean dress she could find was old, far too small, and falling apart. But it was all she had, so Agatha reluctantly slipped it on, and then went over to the mirror. She would have been pretty if she didn't look so tired. She pulled her hair into a tight ponytail. It was in direct contrast to the thinning look of her dress. Glancing at the time, she saw they only had five minutes until they really needed to leave. School was almost half an hour away, and she didn't want to be late. Agatha ran back into the kitchen, grabbed an apple and took a hungry bite, forgetting to be quiet. Rooster had by now finished his breakfast, and was attempting to tie up his shoelaces but, being seven, he wasn't succeeding.

Hurriedly, Agatha grabbed her school bag, slipped on her own battered shoes, and began to help Rooster. Then, she scribbled her mother a note, so that if by some miraculous chance she actually cared, she'd know where they were. She and Rooster were just about to slip through the front door when Agatha heard her mother yelling.

"Goddammit, what the hell are you doing, making all that noise?! You should know better than to wake someone in the middle of the damn night, Amanda!"

Agatha sighed. "It's the morning, not the night. We're going to school, Mom. And it's Agatha."

"Whatever. Shut the hell up."

Agatha sighed again, before taking Rooster's hand and dragging him out of the door.

As they were walking down the street, Rooster held tightly onto Agatha's hand. "Why is Mommy always angry, Aggie?"

"Because she's always drunk."

"Oh. Why?"

Because she drinks."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

Rooster fell silent for a few minutes before asking "Does she love us?"

Agatha was quiet for a moment, before replying. "I think so. A little bit. Secretly. More than Dad, anyway."

"So why doesn't she know your name?"

"She's just... Drunk?" Agatha didn't really know what to say. She wished she could give explanations to all the questions her brother was asking her, but in truth, she didn't know the answers. She knew some people drank to escape problems. Maybe her mother was doing that? But what were her problems? Their dad? He was certainly horrible to her mother as much as to them, but surely they were in love? Or at least, had been at some point. From what she'd gathered from their many arguments and fights, her dad was having an affair. As far as she could tell, it was with a blonde woman of about twenty - almost twenty years younger than her dad - called Tessa. Her mother called her a floozy, and her dad called her an angel. Agatha was completely on her mother's side, but she would have been a lot more sympathetic if her mother didn't keep claiming that Agatha was a useless failure. That didn't exactly make her feel positively about her.

Rooster interrupted her thoughts about ten minutes later by squeezing her hand. "We're at school, Aggie. See you later."

Agatha smiled and hugged him. "Goodbye. Have a good day. Remember to wait for me later."

Rooster nodded and disappeared into the building.

...

"Agatha Hannigan, are you even listening to me?"

Agatha started out of her daydream to see the entire class, teacher included, staring at her. She went red. She hated having attention drawn to her. "Sorry, Sir..."

"I was asking about parents' evening. Everyone's handed in their letter except you. Can either of your parents make it?"

Agatha thought fast. There was no way she was letting either of her parents come to school. Not that they'd want to. "Er... My Dad'll be working... And... My mother... She'll be working too. Right. She'll be working real hard." Agatha didn't like lying to her teacher. He was nice, and she liked him. But she definitely wasn't going to announce in front of the class that the real reason her parents couldn't come was because her mother would probably be too drunk to walk straight and her father simply didn't care about her.

"Couldn't either of them take time off?"

"No," she said quickly. Too quickly, she could tell. He didn't look convinced. But thankfully, he didn't say anymore in front of the whole class. Instead he dismissed them as the end of school bell began to ring. Agatha got up to go with the rest of the students, but her teacher asked her to stay back. Once everyone had left, he motioned for her to come up to his desk, which she reluctantly did.

"Is everything okay at home, Agatha?" He looked concerned.

Agatha was surprised. "Yeah... Why?"

He eyed her dress and old shoes. "You look very tired. And your parents haven't come to parents evening for as long as I can remember."

Agatha swallowed. "I told you. They're busy."

"You can tell me if anything's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong!" She wasn't quite sure why she was lying, only that she didn't want him to know. She angrily blinked back tears and looked defiantly at him.

"Are you sure?" He was being too gentle, too kind.

"I told you! Nothing is wrong!" She was more aggressive than she'd intended, and then, before waiting for an answer, Agatha picked up her bag and ran out. She had to get home. She waited until she was calm and then she went to pick up Rooster and went home with him, as usual not looking forward to seeing her parents.

...

Agatha was surprised when they got home to find both of her parents in. Surprised and not thrilled. She went into the kitchen to unpack her's and Rooster's lunches, and could hear them arguing in their bedroom.

"At least try and act sober, Beth!" Her father was saying exasperatedly.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Judging by the amount of slurring going on, Agatha was fairly sure her mother was not trying to act sober.

"Just hold the drinking until he's gone, dammit!"

"Well why?!"

"Because it's important! You can drink to your heart's content afterwards, but just hold it for now!"

Beth was silent for a moment, considering. "Fine. Goddammit."

Agatha's father came out of the bedroom and marched into the kitchen now, and then spotted Agatha.

"Alright, listen. We've got my boss coming round for dinner tonight, and you'd better be on your best behaviour. I want you to clean this place up and make a decent dinner tonight, okay?!"

Agatha nodded hurriedly. "Yes, sir."

"Good." He marched out again.

Agatha sighed. Not so much as a 'hello'. Just an 'alright, listen'. Well, it was hardly surprising. But still. It would have been nice to be greeted with something other than an order for once.

A decent dinner. That's what he'd said. Agatha looked in a few of the cupboards, but there was nothing except a loaf of bread, a couple of tins of soup and several bottles of whiskey. She opened the fridge, and only found a couple of cans of beer and a bottle of milk. Great. Nothing she could possibly cook with. Agatha sighed. She'd clean first.

An hour later, the apartment was spotless. She'd swept the floor, polished the tables, washed the carpet and done many other things besides, with a little help from Rooster. Next job, dinner. Agatha tried to summon up the courage to ask her father if she could have some money. She also needed to buy Rooster a birthday present, as that was tomorrow. She'd just take a little bit extra than she needed for the meal. They wouldn't know. She doubted whether they even knew it was his birthday. She cautiously went into the living room, where he was sat on the sofa with a can of beer. "Dad, can I have some money to buy stuff for dinner?"

He scowled. "Go ask your mother."

Agatha sighed and went out again, before carefully pushing open the door to her parents' room. Her mother was sitting on the bed, holding a small glass of whiskey and smoking. She smiled slightly when Agatha walked in. Agatha pauses, surprised. So she was in a good mood for once. Well, that was a rare thing.

"Hey, Agatha." The slurring was still there.

"Hi... Didn't Dad say no drinking...?"

Beth smiled. "Just one. For nerves."

Agatha sighed. She'd heard that one before. But she wasn't going to argue. She didn't want to put her in a bad mood.

"Mom, can I have some money to get stuff for dinner?"

"Sure. Check my purse." Beth smiled and put the cigarette she was holding between her lips.

Agatha was surprised at how cooperative her mother was being. Normally, she was extremely protective over her money.

She went over to her mother's purse, and felt around for cash. No, she didn't want the half-empty pack of cigarettes, or the hip flask. Nor did she want the perfume that her mother didn't use, or the makeup Beth had given up on.

Finally, she found what she wanted. Money. How much did she need? She took out a five dollar bill, and then, for Rooster, she took out an extra five. Her mother wouldn't miss it.

...

The knock on the door told Agatha that her father's boss was there. She heard her father answer it, and was just about to eavesdrop on their conversation when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She span round to find her mother smiling awkwardly at her. Agatha's eyes widened as she saw that Beth was wearing makeup. Actual proper neat makeup. It looked good. She'd put on a pretty dress as well, and Agatha could barely smell any alcohol on her. Just two hours ago, her mother had been a drunken, slurring mess, and yet now, here she was, having sobered up for the first time in months, smiling nervously at Agatha. "Do I...Y'know… Look sober enough?"

Although Agatha could still hear a faint slur, she was struck by the difference in her mother. Both drunk and hungover, Beth was loud, mean, and vulgar. But sober, she was... Well, quite sweet and altogether not the same. Agatha smiled. "You look lovely."

Beth smiled back. "Good, because I was told pretty clearly that I needed to be... What was it? Oh. Yeah. 'A goddamn respectable woman who looks like she has morals.' Or something. You know your father. Loves to pretend he's a decent citizen."

Just as Agatha was about to respond, she heard her dad calling them both. Agatha glanced at Beth, who smiled and followed Agatha into the lounge, which doubled as a dining area. Agatha's father, and his boss, were already sat down at the table, and Beth went to sit down next to her husband, whilst Agatha sat down next to the boss, whom she could tell was very different from her father. He had an aura of kindness and gentleness about him, which was a little confusing, because it was questionable as to why anyone would hire her father, but especially someone nice. She smiled, just grateful Rooster was in bed. It wasn't fair for him to see their mother being so nice, when the next day she'd be back to normal.

Her father's boss, who introduced himself as Richard, produced a bottle of wine and placed it on the table. "A thank you for inviting me round. And can I say you look very lovely tonight, Elizabeth."

Beth smiled absentmindedly, eyeing the wine. Agatha silently prayed that she wouldn't have any. It would end in disaster.

Richard picked up the wine and offered it around "Steve?"

Agatha's father nodded and Richard poured a generous amount into his glass. He turned to Beth. "Elizabeth?"

Beth opened her mouth to reply, but Steve cut in. "It's alright, Richard, Elizabeth doesn't drink."

...

Thankfully, after the meal was over, Steve's boss left fairly quickly. Agatha could see that Beth had been struggling with herself for the whole evening, and she knew that she probably wouldn't be able to refrain from drinking for much longer. It made her sad, but at least she'd had a few hours of Beth smiling and laughing like any mother should. A couple of hours where she had allowed herself to love her mother. And then it was over. The minute Richard had gone, Beth went into the kitchen and poured herself a considerably large whiskey. She took it into the living room, sat down on the sofa, and took a large gulp. The look of relief that passed across her face as the alcohol touched her lips hurt Agatha intensely. Surely she was more valuable to her mother than a glass of drink? But after years of it, Agatha knew it wasn't true. Her mother occasionally liked her, but she always loved her alcohol more. Always.

Suddenly, Agatha felt a lump rise in her throat and she had an overwhelming urge to cry. Holding in tears, she went into her room, lay down on her small bed, rested her head against the pillow and started to sob.

She cried at the fact that they didn't care. She cried because in the whole world, the one adult that was consistently nice to her was her teacher, and you couldn't tell a teacher anything. She cried because the only person she could talk to was her seven year old brother. She cried because she was the only child in her whole class whose parents never came to parents evening. But mostly, Agatha cried for her mother. She loved her so much, and all she wanted was to be loved in return. All she wanted in the whole world was to be more valuable to her mother than a bottle of whiskey. The one thing she apparently couldn't achieve. Why couldn't Beth just notice her for once? She was always there, just waiting to be noticed. But her mother never saw her.


	2. Fourteen

Agatha had thought that becoming a teenager would somehow make everything better. In fact, she'd managed to convince herself that the day she turned thirteen, her life would magically improve. She had become so confident that something good would happen that she was even more let down when she found out that it wasn't true. On the contrary. It was the opposite of true. All that happened when she became a teenager was that she understood a lot more. Which somehow made it worse. She didn't want to understand grown ups. She'd decided on her own, optimistic version of the truth when she'd been eight, and to gradually discover it wasn't real was painful.

For example, she'd used to think that all that alcohol did was make her mother happy. She liked the taste and it made her feel better. A childish opinion, but a reassuring one. Now, however, being fourteen years old she'd discovered that it wasn't remotely true. Her mother was an alcoholic. She was addicted to alcohol, and she couldn't always resist being constantly drunk. Alcohol made her mean, loud and angry, but it also helped her to cope. Agatha had discovered at the age of eleven that drinking constantly was literally killing her mother. And that scared her. She didn't want to watch her die, even if a lot of the time Agatha hated her. Beth was the only mother she had, and she desperately didn't want her to die.

Another thing Agatha had believed when she was little was that everyone's parents fought. It was normal. But as she'd gotten older, she'd become aware that it couldn't possibly be normal that every couple, supposedly in love, could fight that much. And it definitely wasn't normal for people's fathers to kiss women half their age whilst still being married, and then pretend it had been an accident. Every time.

All in all, Agatha wished she didn't understand any of it.

...

"Agatha Hannigan, get your lazy ass in here this instant!" Agatha's father yelled angrily, using his customarily indelicate language.

Agatha hurried in. Lately, Steve had been even more grumpy than usual, and she wasn't going to risk anything. "Yes, Dad?"

"Why the hell haven't you cleaned the goddamn dishes?!"

Agatha sighed. "I'm doing schoolwork."

"You can't have this much work. You've been in there all evening!"

"Well, I've got quite a few exams..."

"You're surely too young for serious stuff?!"

"I'm fourteen, Dad," Agatha replied tiredly.

"Since when?!"

"My fourteenth birthday."

"Don't be sassy with me, young lady."

"Well when else would I be fourteen? Duh," Agatha muttered.

Her father grabbed her arm. "What did you say?!"

Agatha wriggled her arm, but he gripped it tightly. "Did I hear you sass me?"

"No! I didn't say anything, I promise. Let go!"

He held onto her arm. "Let me hear you say anything like that again and you'll be sorry. Understand?"

Agatha nodded quickly and he let go of her arm. She hastily went out if the kitchen and into her room, rubbing her arm, which was bright red. She found Rooster sitting on his bed, reading. He looked up as she came in. "What'd he want?"

Agatha smiled faintly. "The dishes. And apparently he didn't know how old I was." She sat down and tried to continue the essay she'd been writing. Rooster noticed the colour of her arm. "He hurt you again?"

Agatha looked up. "Oh... It's nothing. Honest."

"Why d'you let them push you around?"

"Do I have a choice?" She bit her lip, feeling sad. He was only nine and already so... Grown up. She silently cursed her parents.

"You mustn't let anyone hurt you!" Rooster continued.

"That's very sweet, Roost, but I'm trying to write an essay, so d'you think you could talk about it another time?"

He nodded and went back to his book.

Agatha looked down at the page which was half-filled with her somewhat messy scrawl, and put her pen in her mouth. She wanted so badly to get high grades, go to college and move out as soon as possible. But she couldn't see how analysing poetry was going to help her achieve any of this. Still, she was trying as hard as she could. Because who knew? Maybe it would help, and she needed all the help she could get.

Half an hour later, Steve stormed into their room, looking furious and clutching a form which Agatha immediately realised with dismay was her volunteering form for the local library. She had been meaning to ask her mother to sign it at some point - she was far nicer than her father even at her most drunk. If she volunteered at the library, she'd be able to escape for hours on end, and to bring Rooster with her, and have a valid excuse for not being home. And she loved books. One thing she hadn't meant to do was leave the form on the table for her father to find.

"What the hell is this?!" He demanded, waving it like it was some sort of flag.

Agatha hesitated. "... A form."

"Well I can see that. What's it for?"

"... Volunteering. At the library."

"Volunteering?! The hell is the point in doing stuff for free?!"

"It's nice."

"Well screw being nice. It's pointless. And why's it on the table?"

"... I was gonna ask Mom to sign it..."

Steve laughed. "She won't be sober enough to hold a pen. Don't get your hopes up, darling." And, still smiling, he abruptly ripped up the form in front of her eyes. Agatha was silent, knowing both that what he'd said was true and that she couldn't do anything about it. But Rooster was indignant on her behalf.

"That's mean!" He yelled, pouting.

Steve turned to him. "Does it look like I care?!"

"You should care. You're a goddamn bastard." He was quoting Beth from their parents' last argument, and Steve went an interesting shade of purple which would have been amusing if they hadn't both been so afraid.

"What the _hell_ did you just call me?!"

Rooster was silent. He knew he'd made a massive mistake. Agatha was also very pale, silently praying that Rooster wouldn't say anything else. And then she saw Steve lift a hand to slap Rooster, and suddenly, Agatha was angry. He wouldn't lay a hand on her little brother if she could help it. She stood up and moved in between them.

"Get the hell out the way, Agatha!" Steve was not in the mood. But Agatha shook her head.

"If you're going to hit anyone, hit me. But don't you dare hit him."

"Move out the goddamn way."

"No." Agatha was firm. She'd seen the look of fear on her brother's face, and she knew Steve was just using him as a relief from his own anger. Well, Rooster was not getting hurt. She braced herself to receive it instead, and sure enough, she felt her father's palm make hard, vicious contact with her right cheek. She refrained from crying out in pain only because Rooster was listening.

Steve nodded. "Think yourself lucky, Daniel, that you have such a..." He sneered. "A protective sister." And with that, he marched out, slamming the door.

The moment he was gone, Rooster threw his arms around Agatha. Something unspoken passed between them, and as Agatha hugged her brother tightly, she knew she had done the right thing, despite her stinging cheek.

...

The next morning was Saturday. The weekend. Agatha literally hated the weekend. Her father was barely there, which to be fair, was a plus. He spent most of his free time gambling and drinking beer surrounded by women young enough to be his daughters. Agatha knew Beth knew that was what he was doing, but neither of them mentioned it ever. At least he came home late, which meant they didn't have to see him all that much, which was always a good thing. But it did mean Agatha saw an awful lot more of her mother than she would like. Beth spent the majority of the weekend drinking. Not at all different from the week. If Agatha and Rooster were lucky, she would pass out at some point and they'd have a couple of hours of quiet. That was the time Agatha lived for, when she was allowed to just relax, and to watch Rooster be a child for once, which was something she didn't see very often.

When Agatha woke up this weekend, her father was already gone, and her mother was presumably still in bed. Rooster was asleep, so she quietly went into the kitchen to get breakfast. Just as she was sitting down with a slice of toast, a mug of coffee and her favourite book, her mother came in. She looked tired, grumpy and hungover. She took out a bottle of whiskey and a glass, sat down next to Agatha, and poured herself a drink. Agatha looked up. "You know it's only nine in the morning, right?"

Beth sighed. "Who cares?"

"I do."

"Well, whatever. D'you have any ideas where your father is?"

Agatha shook her head. "Probably... Out." There was no need to specify where. They both knew already. Beth took a drink from her glass and then slammed it down on the table. "I hate that man."

Agatha looked as sympathetic as she could with a mouthful of toast. "Why'd you marry him then?"

"I don't know. It was the worst decision I've ever made."

"I thought that was me?" Agatha sounded genuinely surprised.

Beth smiled slightly. "Yeah, well I've changed my mind. At least you can't cheat on me."

That was the first time Agatha's mother had mentioned it in proper words to her, and Agatha wasn't sure how to respond, so she just looked down at her book. She'd known for a very long time that her father spent an awful lot of time with other women, and that he was almost definitely having an affair the majority of the time, but somehow she'd never talked to her mother about it before. They both just pretended it wasn't real.

She looked up to take another bite of toast, and saw Beth looking unexpectedly hurt. Agatha sighed. She felt so helpless. For once her mother wasn't yelling at her or ignoring her, and she had no idea what to say. "What are you doing today, Mom?"

Beth looked at her. "Nothing. Do I ever do anything?"

"Well how about we do something, then?" Agatha said hopefully.

Beth lifted up her glass and raised an eyebrow. "Like what, exactly?"

Agatha hesitated. "Maybe we could... I dunno..."

Beth took a gulp of her drink and observed Agatha. "What do you want to do?"

"I dunno... Just something me and you and Rooster?"

"I still don't understand why you insist on calling him that ridiculous name."

"Just because, Mom. I just do, alright? It's one of the many things you've missed about us because firstly you're usually too drunk to even see straight, and secondly you just don't care." Agatha was getting unintentionally defensive.

Beth was silent.

"See? You can't even disagree, because it's true. Well you know what? Don't bother doing anything. I don't want to get Rooster - yes, you heard me - I don't want to get his hopes up and then have you disappoint him again." She stood up and glared fiercely at Beth, who swallowed and opened her mouth to reply just as Rooster ran in. He stopped short when he saw Beth sitting at the table. "Mommy?" He looked confused.

"Hey, Daniel." She took a sip of her whiskey and almost smiled.

Rooster looked hopeful. He smiled at Beth. "What are you drinking?"

"Whiskey."

"Why?"

Beth paused. "Because... I want to."

"But it makes you nasty."

"You better watch your tongue, kid." Beth didn't speak with much conviction and Rooster looked at Agatha, who shrugged and just watched as Beth finished the glass of whiskey and got up unsteadily to pour herself another.

Rooster looked desperately at Agatha, who sighed and placed a hand on the bottle in Beth's grasp. "Don't you think you've had enough now, Mom?"

"Goddammit, Agatha, I will have had enough only when I can't see to drink anymore, thank you very much.

"Yes, but you've had enough for now." Agatha spoke firmly and calmly, feeling oddly powerful. She gently pulled the bottle out of Beth's hand and put the lid back on. Beth just stood unsteadily in her nightgown and watched as Agatha put the bottle back in the cupboard, before taking her mother's hand and leading her to the sofa, where Beth, still silent, sat down, followed by her daughter.

Agatha wasn't exactly sure what had happened, only that she thought she understood things a whole lot better now. She felt something she'd never really felt before. Sympathy for her mother. She'd seen the look in Beth's eyes when she'd said the word 'cheat'. It had been a look of pain and hurt and anger. And defeat. All of a sudden, Agatha had realised why her mother drank, or at least partly why. She knew also why she was still married to her father. It was because, for some obscene reason, Beth loved her husband. Even after everything he'd done. Even after he'd yelled at her and hurt her and cheated on her and lied to her, Beth still loved him. He didn't know how lucky he was.

On impulse, Agatha put her arms around her mother, and hugged her tightly. Beth, surprised and a little overwhelmed, awkwardly wrapped her own arms around her daughter and Agatha clung on tightly. Beth smelt of whiskey and smoke, but she didn't care in the slightest. Finally, Agatha let go. "I love you, Mom."

Beth smiled slightly, still in shock. "I love you too, Aggie. You have no idea how much. I'm so proud of you."

Agatha grinned and then she saw Rooster watching, looking slightly jealous. She smiled at him and beckoned him over. Rooster smiled hopefully at Beth who smiled nervously back. "Hug?"

Rooster nodded silently and threw himself at Beth, who held her son as tightly as if she was afraid of losing him. Agatha didn't want it to end. It was a very long time since her mother had been even remotely sober, and although she knew it wouldn't last, it was still so nice.

...

About an hour later, Beth was being roped into a game of cards with Rooster, when there was a knock on the door of their apartment. Agatha quickly got up and went to the door, curious as to who it might be. Barely anyone came to their block of flats at all, other than the residents, so visitors were rare. Agatha opened the door and was shocked and more than a little alarmed to see two big policemen at the door. "Hi?"

One of the policemen smiled at her. "Hi, sweetheart. Is your mother home?"

"... Yeah. Why?"

The other policeman replied. "We need to speak to her about something very serious."

Agatha looked more alarmed. "Has she broken the law?"

"Not as far as we know. Would you just be kind enough to call her?"

Agatha yelled for Beth, who, in a nightgown, with rather messy hair and still looking a tiny bit tipsy, came to the door quickly. She, too, looked startled to see the officers and visibly sobered almost immediately.

"Hi, Ma'am. Are you Mrs Hannigan?"

"Yes?"

"Would we be able to come in? We have something rather serious to discuss."

Beth smiled nervously. "Sure, come in."

They did so and Beth motioned for Agatha to go away, but Agatha shook her head. "I'm staying."

Beth sighed but didn't argue. "So what's the serious business then, officers?" She was trying to sound confident, but her voice was shaking.

The police officers exchanged glances. Beth sighed impatiently. "If I've broken the law, tell me."

"This isn't about anything you've done, Ma'am. This is about your husband."

Beth glanced at Agatha. "Maybe you should-"

"No. I'm listening."

Beth gave in and nodded. "Fine."

The officer continued. "Ma'am, am I correct in assuming you knew where your husband was going this morning?"

"Yeah. The bar. Right?"

"Correct. Well, at this bar, there was rather a lot of drinking going on." He glanced meaningfully at Beth at this point, and she gave him a look which made him continue hurriedly. "Well, there was also rather a lot of gambling and... For want of a better word, flirting."

Beth scowled. "Get to the point."

The officer cleared his throat. "Well, you see, there was a fight. Apparently your husband owed one of the other men rather a lot of money."

"So you're telling me he's been arrested for fighting? Or stealing? Or both?"

"No, Ma'am. Your husband hasn't been arrested. You see... He's... Well. He's dead."

Beth went white, and started to involuntarily shake. Agatha squeaked slightly, not even sure she'd heard correctly. Beth barely managed to say "How?"

"Well, as far as we know, he was shoved, slipped and cracked his skull on the bar."

Beth nodded silently. She was very pale and Agatha didn't think she'd ever seen someone shake quite so much. "Mom...?"

Beth opened her mouth to reply, but the only noise that came out was a sort of choked up sob. Agatha put her arms around her mother and clung reassuringly to her. Beth clung back, silently sobbing into Agatha's shoulder. Agatha didn't cry. The plain truth of the matter was that she didn't even know if she was sad. The news would take a lot longer to sink in for her if she was honest. She just held her mother, who was still shaking violently, and sobbing harder and more heartbrokenly than anyone she'd ever heard, until eventually Beth let go. She simply went into the kitchen without a word and Agatha had absolutely no doubt whatsoever that she was pouring herself a large amount of whiskey. She didn't go and prevent Beth. Maybe alcohol and a good cry were what her mother needed. She wasn't sure what else she could provide except love. Instead, she quietly thanked the police officers and told them that Beth would need some time alone. She shut the door behind them, and went to find Rooster, not sure what she was going to say. But she could tell as soon as she saw his face that he'd heard every word. He flew into her arms and she held him tight, knowing he was equally confused about the news. Knowing that they'd both hated Steve, but that now he was dead, they didn't know what to think. "It's okay. We'll be alright. We manage, me and you," she whispered, kissing his head. He hugged her tightly, and started to cry.


	3. Sixteen

"So you're eighteen?" The restaurant owner looked down at the form Agatha had filled in.

"Yeah. I'm eighteen." She was lying through her teeth, but she knew she looked older than her sixteen years and she was relying on that. She needed the job badly.

He nodded. "Alright. Everything seems fine then. You're hired. You start on Monday. I want you here at eleven."

"Thank you, sir. I'll be there." Agatha smiled in relief. She'd done it. He handed her a uniform and she took it before leaving happily.

…

After her father had died, they had been relying on benefits for everything. For the first four months after his death, Beth hadn't even gotten out of bed, and Agatha had practically had to deal with everything by herself. Even when her mother had finally cleaned herself up a bit, she'd only managed a couple weeks of sobriety before going back to her bottle. She was not likely to sober up permanently and take a job anytime soon, and so Agatha had decided that as soon as she was sixteen, she would drop out of school and get a job. She was sad that she wouldn't be able to finish school, but they needed money from a full time job very badly. Living on benefits was, in fact, appalling. Most days, Agatha skipped breakfast to save buying it. She often skipped lunch as well. Neither her nor Rooster had had new clothes for quite a long time, and it was altogether not very fun. At least half of the money that should have been spent on food and clothing was spent on alcohol, and Agatha was getting sick and tired of it. So, when she saw an advertisement in the paper for a new restaurant near her home which needed waitressing, just a few days after her sixteenth birthday, she took the opportunity.

Agatha practically ran home from the restaurant, and flew up the stairs to the small apartment grinning. But her mood was lowered as she came in the living room and found her mother sitting on the sofa, smoking and gazing into a glass of whiskey. Agatha dumped her new uniform on her bed, and went into the kitchen. She was worried about her mother if she was honest. Beth hadn't been out of the house in almost a month, even to the bar. Agatha supposed she could just stop buying Beth drink, but she had no doubt that her mother would go out then, and probably spend even more. Agatha was actually very concerned about Beth's health. She wasn't doing anything, and she wasn't even yelling at either of her children with her usual venom. All her threats had sort of lost their edge, because both Agatha and Rooster knew there was no way she was going to carry them out.

Agatha went into the living room now, with her favourite book, and sat in the chair opposite her mother. Neither of them spoke for a little while, and then Beth looked up. "Aren't you s'posed to be in school?" She slurred.

Agatha lifted her head from her book. "No. I've dropped out. I got a job today."

"Oh. Great." Beth didn't look interested. Agatha sighed. She couldn't believe that her mother didn't even care about her dropping out of school. She literally didn't care.

"So… have you done anything whilst I've been out?"

Beth snorted. "When do I ever do anything?"

"Well… you occasionally go to the bar?"

"There's no point. I may as well stay here."

"Don't you want to see the barman?" Agatha smirked slightly.

"The hell would I wanna see him for?!"

"I thought you liked him."

"The hell I do."

"That wasn't what it looked like when I found you making out with him last month."

Beth scowled and took a large gulp of whiskey. "That was an accident."

Agatha raised her eyebrows but didn't say anything. There wasn't much point. Instead she went back to her book. They sat in rather awkward silence for a while longer before Beth spoke again. "What's your job?"

"Waitressing. In a restaurant."

"Oh. Fun."

"It means we'll have more money."

"Always a good thing."

That was all they said on the subject.

Later, when Rooster got home, Agatha was almost scared to tell him about the job. It would mean that she spent a great deal more time away from home, which in turn meant that he would be left with Beth for a lot longer.

"Hey, Aggie!" He came in smiling. "Did you get your job?"

Agatha couldn't help smiling back. "Yeah, I did."

Rooster grinned. "Does that mean I can finally get a new school bag?"

Agatha laughed. "When I get paid."

"How long are your hours?"

"... Eleven 'til nine with a lunch break at like three."

"That's a hell of a long time."

"Well the pay's crappy so I'm doing two shifts."

"Why do it if the pay's crappy?" Beth muttered.

Agatha gave her a look. "Because I'm not qualified to do any other jobs that are on offer at the moment because I haven't even finished school because I'm sixteen years old and having to work to keep you alive and with enough alcohol to keep you content, even though you're the adult here, not me. So if you want to be able to continue spending your days drinking, you better watch your mouth."

Beth looked taken aback at how abrupt Agatha had been. Agatha was equally surprised at herself, and quite pleased as well.

"I think I get the point," Beth eventually said quietly.

Agatha smiled. "Good."

…

After almost ten hours of work, Agatha was looking forward to going home, something she'd never expected to be able to say. She had enjoyed wearing the uniform and being friendly and talking to people, but after ten hours of predominantly standing and handing out food, she was tired and ready for sleep.

She got home to find Rooster waiting up for her in the kitchen with a mug of warm milk. When Agatha came in, he smiled, hiding a yawn. "Hey, Aggie."

Agatha smiled. "Hey, Roost. Good day at school?"

"Eh. It was alright. You like your job?"

"It pays the bills, I guess. And it ain't too bad. One of the waiters is pretty cute."

Rooster made a face. "Ew."

Agatha laughed. "It's okay. I'm sure no one wants to date me anyway."

Rooster yawned again.

"You should go to bed."

"I'm fine. I wanna talk."

"You're tired and you have school tomorrow. It's time for you to sleep."

Rooster sighed and got up, putting his mug on the side. "You might wanna check on Mom before you go to bed."

"Where is she?"

"In her room. Has been since I got home."

"Oh. Well, I'll check on her. Night."

"Night." He gave her a quick hug before going to bed.

Agatha took a little while to sit down and recollect her thoughts. She was worried. Her mother had still been in her room when Agatha had left for work in the morning. She'd probably stayed there all day, except perhaps to get another drink. She hadn't stayed there for a whole day since a couple of months after Steve had died. It was one thing to stay in the flat, another thing to not even come out of her room. Agatha decided she ought to go and check on Beth. She sighed and got up from the table, before going quietly into her mother's bedroom.

Agatha was surprised and scared at just how sick her mother looked, sat on the bed, hands wrapped tightly around the neck of a bottle, pale and tired in appearance. Beth had put on a considerable amount of weight in the last few weeks, and she was no longer the skin, pretty (albeit rather drunk and messy) woman she had once been. Her figure had almost disappeared, and her hair was unkempt and untidy. Agatha quietly went over to her and sat down. "Hey."

Beth glanced at her, giving her a half-smile. "Hi."

"You been in here all day?"

"Yeah."

Agatha started to feel desperate. Couldn't she do anything to help? "Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're obviously not fine. You're about as far away from fine as it's possible to be! Can't you just tell me how to help you and get you better?!"

Beth gave her a sad smile. "Look at me. I'm not improving anytime soon. Just…" She shrugged and lifted the bottle to her lips, swallowing a gulp before putting the lid back on. Suddenly angry, Agatha snatched the bottle from her. "Stop it! Please. Stop. Your eleven year old child needs you. Hell, I need you too. Please try, Mom. Please try to stop."

Beth held up her hands. "I'm trying. I've been trying for a very long time. But I'm not strong and I'm not brave. You're both. Look at me. I'm almost forty, single, drunk and completely unattractive."

"You're not unattractive. All you need to do is wash your hair and your face and freshen up a bit. And I can help you sober."

"Are you a dating expert as well?"

"I'm not an expert, but I'd recommend the barman. He's cute, friendly and you've already kissed him."

"Yeah, when I was about four sizes slimmer and only on my third glass of whiskey."

"Mom, he's not gonna care what size dress you wear. Why don't you try just for this evening? It's only half nine. Go have a shower and sober up a bit. Then I'll go with you, yeah?"

"You've got work tomorrow."

"It doesn't start 'til eleven. And you need to get out, anyway. Now go shower."

"What about Daniel?"

"I'll leave a note. He'll be fine for a little while. Go and have a goddamn shower and come out for an hour or so."

Beth smiled, squeezed Agatha's hand and unexpectedly actually did what she had suggested and went into the bathroom, whilst Agatha went into the kitchen and poured the contents of the bottle of alcohol she'd taken from her mother down the sink.

…

About half an hour later, Agatha and her mother walked the short distance to the bar around the corner. Beth was in a pretty black and white dress which was maybe too tight to be completely comfortable, but her hair was up, and she'd put on a tiny amount of makeup and just generally looked a bit healthier. Agatha had to help her walk completely straight, because she was shaking rather a lot as a result of a lot of nerves and lack of alcohol.

They got to the bar just after ten, and the minute the barman had saw them come in, he put down the glass he was wiping and came over to greet Agatha's mother.

"Bethy, how are you, honey? I haven't seen you for ages."

"I'm alright. I was persuaded to come out."

"You look gorgeous."

Beth went slightly red. "Not really…"

"You do. Drink?"

Agatha shook her head violently at him, and he clearly got her message. "Okay, maybe no drink. But come sit down, yeah?"

Beth smiled slightly and at this point, Agatha went over to a table in the corner and watched her mother and the barman talk. She'd never seen Beth look quite so happy and she knew she'd done the right thing, even if it was just one evening of happiness for her. And she'd realised she was no longer scared of her mother. Growing up she had always been scared. And yet now she wasn't. Because Beth wasn't really scary. Just drunk. Steve had been really bad, but he was dead, and Agatha suspected that that had a lot to do with how much less tense and moody her mother was with her, even if only a little.

Agatha watched as the barman took her mother's hand and lead her to a table. She watched as they sat and talked for a long while, and as he brushed the hair out of Beth's face and smiled gently at her. Agatha watched as he leant over the table and tenderly kissed Beth on the lips. And Agatha watched as her mother kissed back. It was a weird feeling. Her parents had only ever kissed either when Beth was sober or Steve was drunk. She was certain she'd seen her dad kissing other women _more_ than she'd seen him kissing her mom. Well, Beth deserved this. A lot. Agatha smiled and let her get on with it.

At around eleven, Beth came over to Agatha and put a hand on her shoulder. "Can we go home now?"

Agatha stood up, surprised. "Yeah. Sure. If you're certain you wanna leave?"

Beth nodded silently, and Agatha saw that she appeared to be in pain. "What is it, Mom?"

"I just… have a slight pain in my stomach. Nothing drastic. I'd just love to go home." She indicated her right abdomen vaguely.

Agatha smiled. "Sure. Okay. Let's go then."

When they got home, Beth went straight into her bedroom and lay down, which was worrying. She normally would at least have gone into the living room first. "I don't s'pose you could get me a drink, Aggie?"

Agatha sighed. "Of what?"

"Scotch would be fabulous."

"Did you not enjoy you evening, then?"

"I did… I just… it'll make me feel better, alright? Just one glass? Please?"

Agatha sighed. Her mother looked so desperate and helpless that she couldn't say no. She went to get her mother a drink.

…

A slight pain in her stomach. That's all Beth had said. That was all it had appeared to be at first, to be fair. But after a week or so, Agatha knew it wasn't anywhere near as simple and harmless as that. After all, stomach ache didn't last for more than a day usually. Instead of recovering, Beth got steadily worse, drinking a ridiculous amount to numb the apparent pain she was feeling. She had multiple scary symptoms: her abdomen had swollen up so much that she could barely walk, and she almost looked like she was pregnant; she was frequently being sick which didn't improve her mood and Agatha regularly found her sat up in the middle of the night either drinking, smoking or having appalling attacks of shivering. During these, Agatha would sit with her and give her water and talk to her and sometimes just silently hold her. She did her best not to wake Rooster, and although he knew Beth wasn't particularly healthy, he didn't know the full extent of what was going on. Sometimes Beth was so bad in the mornings that Agatha almost didn't go to work. But she had to. She didn't have a choice. They needed the money.

Agatha and Beth both knew exactly what was going on, but neither of them wanted to say it out loud. It was almost like saying it would make it real. Liver failure. Finally, Agatha's mother's years of drinking were catching up with her, and Agatha knew that Beth didn't have much time left. She was so scared for what would happen without her, and what she'd do once Beth was gone. Agatha had never gotten along particularly well with her mother, but they'd been okay the last few months, and now all Agatha wanted was more time. More time to get to know her mother. More time to talk to her. More time to love a woman she'd never really known could be loved until so recently. She wished so badly she could show Beth just how much she loved her, but she couldn't and it broke her heart.

And how the hell did she tell Rooster that his mother was dying?! He was eleven, and he loved his mother more than anything, despite each and every time she'd let him down. Agatha was intensely worried about it, and overall more stressed than she'd ever been in her life. She was barely able to concentrate at work, and her boss had yelled at her several times over the last week to stop daydreaming. But it was incredibly difficult to spend ten hours a day working, and then barely sleep because she was up all night with Beth, without losing focus occasionally. She was managing, but only just.

…

Almost three weeks after Beth had last gone out, she was in such a bad state that Agatha wasn't sure she could deal with it anymore. She'd been up all night with her, but Beth was getting steadily worse rather than was only sixteen after all, and she needed adult help. But what adults did she know? She thought for almost two minutes, before realising. She yelled for Rooster from their mother's room and he came running in a couple seconds later, yawning but looking scared. "What is it?!"

"Run down to the bar and tell the barman to come back with you. Tell him Mom's in a bad way."

Rooster nodded hurriedly and ran out again, whilst Agatha hugged Beth tightly. "Hey Mom. It's okay. I promise. It's okay."

Beth clung back. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It's okay. Shhhhh."

"No, I'm sorry for everything. For the yelling, for the pain, for the lying. And for the drinking."

"Hey. I understand. Don't talk now. It's alright." Agatha's voice cracked and she leant her head on her mother's shoulder.

"I love you, Agatha. I never said that enough."

'Shhhh. I know. I love you too."

"Promise me something?"

"Anything."

Beth smiled weakly. "Look after yourself. Please. Never ever let someone push you around like this. Take it from me, you may love someone, but if you ever _ever_ feel scared, you run like hell. I didn't run and look where it got me. Please promise?" Her voice cracked and suddenly she weakened her hold on her daughter.

Agatha nodded, feeling her eyes burning with tears and unable to speak. She heard her brother get back and what happened next was a complete blur in her mind. All she vaguely remembered was gently being pulled off her mother, being hugged incredibly hard by Rooster, and next thing she knew, she was in the strong arms of the barman, shaking and crying, although she wasn't yet aware of exactly what was going on. The only thing she knew was she needed her mother. She was sixteen but at that moment she felt like a small child again, yearning for her mother. "Mommy…" She was almost whispering. She needed Beth. She needed her. She cast a look around to see if she was there, but all she saw was Rooster, who was sitting on the other side of the living room, scowling, with tears silently running down his cheeks. And suddenly Agatha knew. Beyond a doubt, she felt a sense of dreadful realisation. Beth was gone. She wasn't there. She was gone. Dead. She was an orphan. She was all alone with her little brother. She ran over to him as soon as she figured out what was going on, flinging her arms around him and he buried his face in her chest, sobbing now, no longer silent. Agatha held him silently for a very long time, before an enormous wave of grief and sorrow and realisation came over her, and she began to sob uncontrollably.

At that point, Rooster out his arms around her. "Don't cry, Aggie. You'll be alright. I promise." He smiled encouragingly at her and she smiled back through a curtain of tears."I love you, Rooster Hannigan."

"I love you too."

"She didn't want you to know, you know. That she was… sick. Well, more sick. She wanted to tell you at the end and to tell you how much you meant to her. She just didn't get the opportunity." Agatha's voice cracked and he squeezed her hand. "Shhhh. Don't talk."

Agatha sighed. "I'm sure we'll manage without her, though. I mean, it's not like Mom did anything to help." She laughed slightly and then collapsed into tears again.

Rooster smiled gently at her. "Remember what you told me after Dad died? 'We manage, me and you.' Well, we do. We can manage anything. Just you wait."


	4. Nineteen

"For the last time, Roost, it's fine. The bills will get payed. I can handle it."

"But if I get a part-time job, it'll be _easier_ by far."

"You're fourteen. Concentrate on school and let me deal with the money."

"I hate school."

"I know. But look, if you stick it out there, you'll be qualified enough to get a decent job, and you'll have actual money."

Rooster sighed. "You say you're fine, but here you are, still awake at one in the morning, stressing about how you're gonna pay the rent. Just let me _help_ , Aggie."

Agatha shook her head. "I'm the adult now, and you have to do what I say. And I've told you not to worry." She hid a yawn and ran a hand through her hair.

"Go to bed, Agatha."

"I'll come in a minute." Agatha absentmindedly smiled at him and picked up her pack of cigarettes from the table. She pulled one out and reached for her lighter.

"Well I'm going back to sleep." He kissed her on the cheek before going back to bed.

Agatha smiled slightly, before putting the cigarette between her lips, lighting it, and carefully rereading the numerous sheets of paper in front of her. She supposed she really ought to go to bed, but she was just so worried about everything. When her mother had died, the barman, who's name Agatha had only learned then, was Scott, had paid for the funeral. Agatha had been eternally grateful, but he couldn't really do much else. He didn't want two random orphans belonging to a woman he'd kissed twice. After Agatha had convinced him they were fine, his guilt had soon disappeared.

So for the last three years, Agatha had been looking after herself and Rooster alone. Agatha had decided they'd move apartments because she couldn't bear walking past the room her mother had died in every day. They'd gone somewhere close, but cheaper, because it was even smaller. Agatha had kept her job, because she hadn't seen anything that paid better she could do. And she sort of enjoyed it. Rooster was still in school. He loved English and drama, although he didn't tell anyone but Agatha that because he didn't want to be considered a 'sissy'. Agatha had started smoking when she turned eighteen. It was her only habit - except worrying about money.

Agatha finished her cigarette, glanced at the clock and sighed. It was after one in the morning. She got up, switched off the light and went into her small room. She curled up under the thin covers, and stared at the ceiling for a while, wondering how on earth they were going to get out of this mess.

…

Agatha was finding it very hard to keep her eyes open at work. Again. Even after going to bed, she hadn't actually gotten to sleep until around four. And now she was most definitely suffering for it. She'd just taken a quick coffee break, but she was practically falling asleep on the table. Even caffeine wasn't helping.

"Hannigan?!" Her boss yelled from the room next door.

Agatha got up tiredly. "Yes, sir?"

"We're too busy for coffee breaks. Get on with your job."

Agatha quickly finished her drink and got back to working. Her breaks had become shorter and shorter over the last few months, because the restaurant had been increasingly busy, which was good for business but not so much for Agatha's peace of mind.

Almost two hours later, at five o'clock, Agatha was just clearing a table when she heard her boss yelling for her again. Agatha sighed and went into his office in the back where he was holding a telephone. Agatha wondered what on earth she'd done wrong now. "Yes, sir?"

"The phone's for you." He looked almost friendly and Agatha immediately started to worry. As a rule, when he looked friendly, it meant he had bad news.

"Who is it, Sir?"

"The police."

Agatha went slightly pale and took the phone quickly. "Hello?"

"Are you Agatha Hannigan?"

"Yes. What is it?"

"We're just calling to inform you that your brother, Daniel Hannigan, has been arrested, and we're holding him at the station."

"Arrested?! Jesus Christ. For what?"

"Aggravated burglary. We were told you're his closest adult relative."

"Yeah… I am… Are you sure it's him?"

"Claimed you called him 'Rooster'?"

"Crap."

"You're able to come and talk to him if you'd like."

"Yeah… yeah alright. I'll be there in a minute." She hung up and just took a moment to absorb what she'd heard. She couldn't imagine her brother doing anything even remotely illegal. She was in shock.

"You'll want the afternoon off, I assume?" Her boss was looking at her almost gently.

Agatha looked up, swallowed and nodded. "Please."

He smiled at her. "Go and sort out what you have to."

Agatha gave him a small smile and went to pick up her bag before going as fast as she could to the police station. She ran up to the desk and rang the bell. A bored-looking policeman came up to her. "Yeah?"

"Can I please see my brother? Roos- Daniel Hannigan? I think he was brought in earlier today?"

The policeman nodded and began to look through a book of names at a frustratingly slow pace. Agatha tried to refrain from getting annoyed. Her nerves weren't in a good state and she was worried as hell. She bit her lip, waiting impatiently. He was giving her time to think and she didn't like that. _Aggravated burglary? Rooster?!_ Surely there was a mistake somewhere. He wouldn't hurt a fly normally.

Eventually, the man appeared to find Rooster's name. "Daniel Francis Hannigan? Aged fourteen?"

Agatha nodded. "That's him."

"Name?"

"Agatha Hannigan."

" _Full_ name?"

Agatha sighed. "Agatha Rose Hannigan."

He wrote this down before looking up again. "Age?"

"Nineteen."

"Relation to prisoner?"

"I said this earlier. He's my brother."

"So you're his sister."

"Of course I'm his goddamn sister!" Agatha was beginning to get annoyed.

The policeman raised his eyebrows before writing everything down and stepping out from the desk. "Follow me, then."

Agatha followed him as he led her to a cell where she stifled a gasp as she saw Rooster. He was bruised and in a black and white striped suit which was far too big for a fourteen year old. He looked up as the door was unlocked, and stood when he saw Agatha. "I'm so sorry, Aggie…"

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

"I dunno…"

" _Aggravated_ burglary?! Jesus Christ, I thought you were better than that."

Rooster glanced down at his feet.

"Well? What happened?"

"I… Well… I skipped school…"

"No way."

"I was just sick of being poor and I guess I figured if we had more money… I dunno…"

"I _told_ you I was _coping_."

"Yeah… but _coping_ ain't exactly great…"

"Well, jail isn't very fun either."

Rooster looked down. "They said I've got two years… cos when I was leaving the guy who's place it was ran after me and I hit him… so that makes it worse…"

Agatha sat down on the bench inside the cell and put her face in her hands. "Where exactly did you do it?"

"The jewelry shop…" He looked intensely guilty, and scared as well. "Don't hate me. Please."

Agatha sighed. "I just don't understand why, though. You know it's wrong."

"I wish you weren't so perfect. Then maybe you'd understand. But you're just so goddamn perfect. You never hurt anyone, you never disappoint anyone, you work hard, you were brilliant at school, you're pretty. Even Mom liked you. I wish I was perfect. "

Agatha was silent. She wasn't even sure how to reply to that. She'd always gotten along so well with her brother, so arguing wasn't something they'd ever really experienced. "I'm not perfect," she said eventually.

Rooster sat down next to her. "Well it seems like it to me. I'm just goddamn fed up of having no money and never being able to do anything fun and seeing you struggle over bills and not being able to help. Life is just so goddamn crap." He let out some of his pent up emotions by kicking the wall violently, and then he just leant his head on Agatha's shoulder and started to cry. "I'm sorry, sis. Really."

Agatha let herself soften and she put her arms around him. "Shhh. It's alright. I understand. I just wish you'd told me instead of taking matters into your own hands."

"It was stupid. I know it was stupid. And now I've gotta sit in a cell for two years to prove to me further how stupid it was."

"Oh god, Roost. You're fourteen. By the time you get out-"

"Sixteen. I'll be sixteen." He shrugged. "So what? At least I'll get three meals a day."

Agatha sighed. "You're so young. Can't I bail you out?"

"I dunno." He frowned and then looked as if he was going to cry again. "Please try. Forget three meals, I don't wanna be sat in a cell all day. And you'll be alone." His voice cracked.

Agatha nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak. She didn't think she could handle Rooster not being there as well as her mother and father. Even if it wasn't forever this time, she'd always been closest to her brother and he'd never hurt her before, but she knew it wasn't very likely that she'd be able to afford the cost of bail. They were both silent for a little while, before Agatha stood up. "I should probably go and find out how much your bail is, then."

Rooster nodded. "Sure." He stood up as well and gave her a quick hug. "Thank you for not… you know… yelling. That much, anyway."

"Don't think I'm not angry at you, because I'm goddamn furious. But I'm not wasting my energy yelling. You know you've been a complete ass. And jail doesn't exactly look great on your record so I figure you've got enough punishment."

He smiled gratefully. "I told you you were perfect." He kissed her on the cheek and Agatha gave him a quick smile before getting up. "I'll see what I can do. And I might be able to come before work tomorrow. I love you." She went out of the cell, signed out on the visitors list and went home.

…

Agatha made herself a mug of coffee, sat down at the table, and lit a cigarette. She still couldn't quite believe what had happened. Her brother had always been so good and sweet. And yet seeing him at the police station in that prison outfit, kicking the wall, and thinking about what being arrested must have looked like, she wondered if maybe there was something he wasn't telling her. Agatha took a sip of coffee and sighed. She'd found out after leaving Rooster that his bail price was almost $300, and she had no idea where she was going to get that kind of money from. About eighty percent of her wages went towards the rent, and the rest paid for food, cigarettes, and any extras they might need. On the other hand, she wouldn't have to spend as much on food if she was only feeding herself. She only had about $20 in the bank currently, because her pay day was in about a week, and at the moment they had plenty of food. But Agatha was tired. Tired of barely being able to scrape together enough to survive. Tired of not having any visible prospects for the future. Tired of only having a fourteen year old boy for company, even if she loved her brother very dearly. And she was tired of not being able to go a day without suddenly, unexpectedly remembering at least one way in which her parents had hurt her, even though they'd both been dead for over two years. She regularly missed her mother so much it ached, even though she knew it was pointless. And now her brother had gotten himself arrested.

Agatha breathed out a cloud of smoke and finished her cigarette. She wasn't really sure what to do. She hadn't had spare time by herself for ages. She wasn't really in the mood to read a book, she had done all the household chores before work, and there was nothing left to do. Agatha got up and decided she would go for a walk. It would help clear her mind and get her out of the unnaturally quiet apartment. She put on a coat, shoved a pack of cigarettes in her pocket, and slipped on her shoes. Agatha locked the door behind her and went down to the cold street. She loved the city. It made her feel safe, and she knew it like the back of her hand. She wandered down the street, taking in the buildings and signs around her, smiling at the amount of people hurrying around, bust, all with a purpose and a place to go. She sat down on a bench at the end of the street. The city fascinated her, and she was able to forget a lot by just breathing in the cold air and allowing herself to become part of the crowd.

…

"Three hundred dollars ain't that much. Seriously, how can you not have that much?!"

"Roost, you know I don't have it. And I'm sorry, but I can't do anything. You're stuck here."

"I'm your brother. Can't you scrape it together?! Sell something, quit smoking, work more, I dunno." He looked annoyed at Agatha, something she wasn't used to at all.

"Firstly, I don't have anything to sell. Second, I'm not working more. I'm tired enough as it is. And three, I'm not quitting the only thing I let myself have. You got yourself into this mess, and you have to suffer the consequences."

"You're my legal guardian. You're supposed to watch out for me."

"I'm your legal guardian, yeah. But I'm your sister, not your mother."

Rooster kicked the wall. "That never made a difference before. I _hate_ being so good. It's so _boring._ I just want to do something _fun_ for once. Instead of just having to do school, and homework, and make my own dinner, and spend the evening alone, and I just want to be able to _live._ No one else has to rely on their sisters, no one else can't go to parties or buy new things or whatever, no one else is a goddamned orphan."

Agatha put a hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off angrily. "Not my mother, remember?"

"Roost…?"

"He scowled. "What?!"

"You've only been in here a day. I'll get you out, I just need time. I'm sorry life's so crap at the moment, but I'm trying my best."

"Well that ain't good enough."

Agatha bit her lip. She was intensely hurt and confused by how her brother was behaving. She just didn't understand what had happened. "What changed?"

"What d'you mean?"

"What changed? What have I done to make you so angry at me?"

Rooster sighed and sat down next to her. "I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at myself. How stupid was that?! Ugh. I'm so _annoyed_."

"I'm sorry I can't get you out. I wish I could."

"It's alright. I get it. I'll just stay here for a bit more. I deserve it anyway. I'm sorry if I ruined anything for you."

"Nah. It ain't like I do much, let's face it. Just… tell me if something's wrong, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I should probably go…"

"Yeah. Go on."

Agatha stood up. "I love you."

"Love you too." He smiled slightly at her, and Agatha smiled back before leaving.

…

"Are you kidding me?!" Agatha cried exasperatedly at her brother down the phone.

"He was asking for it."

"I don't care what he was doing! I don't believe it. Only yesterday you were crying at me and begging for me to scrape enough to pay for your bail, and now you're telling me that you can't be bailed out because not only did you hit the guy you were burgling, you _punched_ a police officer?!"

"I told you. He was asking for it," Rooster said moodily.

"I don't give a damn about that! What about your future? What about school, what about me?!"

"You won't have to pay for any of my things again for a start. And I'll be fine."

Agatha sighed in frustration. "Alright, why'd you punch him?"

"Because he was rude as hell. He said that he wouldn't be surprised if you couldn't pay my bail because you were so poor, and that he'd known Dad because of whatever and that it was a shame we had him and Mom for parents and that it was no wonder I turned out just as bad. And he said you must be pretty stupid not to have kicked me out by now, because you're an attractive girl whom he thought looked a lot like someone he'd date. That was what made me hurt him. I wanted to do more. I wanted to make him bleed."

"But he stopped you?"

"No. He was too shocked. It was another one who grabbed my arms and had to restrain me from scratching his eyes out, the little-"

"Alright. I get the point. Thanks." Agatha was quite shocked by just how violent her brother sounded. She knew he'd had somewhat brave or defensive intentions, but he'd never been one to hurt people.

"I told you he deserved it."

"You've never hurt someone before. Why now?"

"Because he was talking trash about Mom and me and _you_ and he needed sorting out. Simple as."

"Except it's not because you have to suffer two years in jail for it."

"I'd do it again."

"Are you thick?"

"No. I just… I don't want anyone hurting you."

Agatha sighed. "I love you, you infuriating human being. And I can take care of myself."

"I love you too, little Miss perfect."

Agatha couldn't help but smile. "Alright. Well. I'll speak to you tomorrow. Bye."

"Bye, sis."

Agatha hung up the phone and sighed. She was exceedingly exasperated and angry at her brother. Why couldn't he just behave? Two years was a hell of a long time. Two years living alone with nobody to talk to. She'd gone from having a complete (albeit dysfunctional) family to having no one at all in five years. Which seemed like a short time. But all the same, she wasn't sure what on earth she was going to do next. When her brother had phoned from the police station at nine in the morning to tell her there was no way she could bail him, she'd been disappointed, angry, frustrated and confused. In the space of two days, she'd gone from having a helpful, sweet, clever brother, to one who had broken the law, been arrested, and punched a police officer. Somehow, she felt guilty. Guilty that he felt the need to express his feelings like that. Guilty that she couldn't provide what he really needed. But, most ridiculous of all, she felt guilty that he hasn't been able to just have a normal, protected, loving childhood. Agatha sat down on her bed and leant against the wall, angry tears forming. She hated her parents.


	5. Twenty-Two

"You're...asking me out…on a date?" Agatha was incredulous. In the entirety of her twenty-two years of being alive, no one had ever even shown the slightest romantic interest in her. And now, suddenly, the guy she'd been secretly crushing on for almost three years was asking her out on a date. She was confused to say the least.

"Yeah. Why not? It's no big deal."

"Well...I mean...I've never been on a date before." Agatha smiled nervously.

"First time for everything, right?"

Agatha nodded. She was a little scared of men if she was honest, courtesy of her father. But they weren't all going to be like him. That was what she told herself. "Alright, I'll come."

He smiled. "What days are you free?"

"... Sunday."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. Well. I work every other day."

"I didn't realise you do so many hours. I only do weekdays."

"I need the money."

"Sure. We'll make it Sunday then."

"Here?"

"Why not? The food's good."

"It's expensive…"

"I'll pay."

Agatha smiled. "Okay. See you Sunday." She made sure to walk out of the restaurant calmly and sensibly, but as soon as she was sure she was out of sight, she practically sprinted home. She burst into their apartment grinning, and went into the living room to find Rooster sprawled on the sofa, smoking. Ever since he'd been let out of jail a few months earlier, he'd done his best to help Agatha and make it up to her. But it was hard because his school didn't want him, the college didn't want him, and though he'd applied for numerous jobs, no one was going to employ a criminal. Hence him being home.

"Roost, I got a date!" Agatha practically bounced onto the sofa next to him.

"You what?" He sat up, looking vaguely interested.

"I got a date! Tomorrow!"

"How?"

"Basically, I was just about to leave when James, you know, the cute one, grabbed my arm and was all like 'hey, you're pretty. Date me?' just like that. It was weird. But I'm going on a safe and we're having food at the restaurant and I've never been on a date before, Roost. I'm so excited!"

Rooster smiled slightly. "You're cute when you're excited. I just hope your date goes better than my job interview today."

Agatha's face fell slightly. "Was it that bad?"

"Same story. No one wants to employ a criminal, right?" He sighed.

"You'll get there. I promise."

He smiled at her. "So what're you gonna wear?"

Agatha paused. "I don't really have anything. I mean, I can wear my nice dress, but I don't have any shoes."

"Buy yourself some then."

"I… well, I'd love to, but…"

"Go on. Treat yourself. You never do. We've got plenty of money to buy a nice pair of heels or whatever it is women like."

Agatha nodded slowly. "You know what? I will."

…

"Do I look okay?" Agatha asked her brother nervously for about the tenth time that evening.

Rooster smiled lazily at her. "You look the same as you did two minutes ago when I told you you looked lovely."

"I haven't got any makeup…do you think I look tired?"

"You look fine. Stop stressing. Just go."

Agatha grinned at him, scared and excited at the same time. "I dunno what time I'll be back…"

"It's fine. Have a nice time. Bye."

"Bye." Agatha smiled at him one last time before shutting the door behind her. She made her way quickly down the street and got the restaurant to find James waiting for her at a table. She sat down quickly. He looked up when she came in and smiled. "You look lovely," he commented.

Agatha blushed. "Hi…"

"How are you?"

"...Good. You?"

"Also good."

Their conversation went on like this for quite some time, both of them avoiding anything but small talk, and Agatha successfully managing to keep the subject off of herself, until a waiter came over to take their order. Her date confidently ordered food and a glass of wine, but when the waiter turned to Agatha and asked if she'd also like wine, she panicked. She didn't drink, and she really didn't want to, but maybe she'd be considered weird or childish for saying no. Was it socially acceptable to not drink when your date was? "I…don't drink?"

"Then you're missing out on a treat. Try some," James encouraged.

Agatha went red. "I don't like what it does to people. I'd rather not have any, please."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself then."

Thankfully, that was the end of that conversation, and Agatha ordered her food clumsily, choosing the cheapest thing on the menu out of habit. She smiled awkwardly as the waiter left and wasn't quite sure whether to speak or not, when the decision was made for her.

"You live by yourself?" Her date asked interestedly.

Agatha already didn't like where this was going. "I live with my brother…"

"How old is he then?"

"... Seventeen."

"That's pretty young. D'you not have parents…?"

Agatha looked down into her lap uncomfortably and he noticed. "I'm sorry… I'm always far too nosy… you don't need to tell me."

Agatha sighed and smiled at him. "I don't have parents. My parents are both dead. My father died when I was fourteen, and my mother when I was sixteen."

"That's awful… I'm so sorry…"

"They never did me much good anyway. But yeah. I got landed with my brother."

"Is he at school or working?"

Agatha twisted her fingers together nervously. "Neither, actually."

He looked mildly surprised. "Isn't that illegal?"

"Well… technically, yes, but no school wants him as a pupil. And no one will employ him either."

"Why?"

Agatha clammed up now. She'd already said more than was probably a good idea to share on a first date. She didn't want to say that she lived with a seventeen-year-old ex-con. That didn't make her seem respectable. But then, nothing about her made her seem respectable. Her father had died in a bar fight and her mother had been a drunk. Then again, no one needed to know that. But she didn't want to lie.

"He...he made a mistake and got himself arrested when he was fourteen."

James went slightly pale. "What'd he do?"

"It was burglary." Agatha wasn't even sure why she was answering his questions, only that she desperately wanted to be honest to someone for once.

"Burglary? So...you're related to a thief, essentially?" He looked extremely unimpressed.

Agatha hesitated. "Well...yes?" He appeared to be considering whether or not to tell her to get lost. Agatha held her breath and waited for his reaction. Eventually, he disdainfully spoke. "I don't tend to associate myself with criminals or their families. I feel they rank almost as low as drunks. And cheats."

Agatha stood up, suddenly angry at his stupid, annoyingly attractive face. "Then you sure as hell don't wanna associate yourself with me. I live with a criminal, and you know what else? I don't drink because mother died from liver failure because she spent most of her life drinking, and my father died in a bar fight. I've barely been scraping enough to live, and my brother just went about the wrong way of helping. So you can take your views on thieves and drunks and riffraff like me and shove them up your judgemental arse for all I care. Thank you for the dinner I'm not going to eat, and goodbye." She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the restaurant. She'd managed to get halfway back to her apartment before she calmed down enough to realise exactly what she'd just done.

Agatha made her way slowly up the stairs and unlocked the door to her flat solemnly, before dropping her bag at the side of her bed, throwing off the new pair of shoes she'd thought were perfect for the evening, and laying face down on her bed. She buried her face in the pillow and just started to cry. She couldn't quite believe what she'd done. Yelling at someone and then walking out on them just because they voiced a valid opinion was hardly her style. Well she'd screwed that one up good and proper. Three years of hoping and then she'd messed it up in one night. Why did she have to be so touchy about everything? She should have known she'd be judged for Rooster. She'd walked right onto the trap of thinking she could get someone and that would make it better. Naïve optimism. Or in other words, stupidity.

After around ten minutes of just letting up practically all her pent up emotions escape into her pillow, Agatha sat up tiredly and wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. She sniffed and stood up, going into the kitchen and making herself a mug of coffee. That was when she began to wonder where Rooster was. He wasn't in the living room, she could see that from where she was standing. It was only about nine o'clock, so he wouldn't have gone to bed yet. Agatha wondered whether he was in his room, but after checking and finding it empty, she began to feel vaguely worried. Of course, he could easily just have gone out with a friend, or for a walk or something. He hasn't been expecting her back until at least ten. She had no reason to worry. It was fine. He was seventeen after all. She needed to stop being so protective. So he'd gone to jail once. That didn't mean it was going to happen again by any means. And just because she'd had an awful night didn't mean she should automatically think negatively. He'd be back in an hour or so, she was sure.

…

The clock struck eleven and Agatha was getting more and more concerned with every passing minute. He hasn't left a note or mentioned anything about going out and it was getting late. Agatha sat down on the sofa in the living room and pulled out a cigarette from the pack in her pocket. She put it and forced herself to be calm. Did she trust him? She wanted to tell herself yes, but the truth was that her trust had been more than a little knocked after he'd been arrested. Had she forgiven? Yes. She had. He'd said he was sorry and she believed him. Her mind wandered to all the negative possibilities of where he might be, but she forced herself to stop. It wasn't going to help anything anymore, so there was no point in worrying. He'd be fine, she told herself.

Suddenly the phone rang, cutting through her silent internal conflict like a knife. Agatha jumped up abruptly and went to answer it. She picked it up hastily and tried to sound calm. "Hello?"

"Agatha Hannigan?"

"Yeah, that's me. What is it?" She didn't sound calm.

"This is the police. Your brother, Daniel Hannigan, he's been arrested this evening. For stealing a rather large amount of money from a shop."

Agatha felt her heart physically drop. "...Right."

"We're holding him now."

"Oh...I...I'm on my way." Agatha slowly put down the phone and took a moment just to take in what she'd heard. Arrested. Again. She could barely believe what had been said, but at the same time it was exactly what she'd been worried about. She shoved on a pair of shoes, took a deep breath, and made her way reluctantly to the police station, trying not to think of what happened next. She told the policeman at the desk who she was there for as soon as she arrived, and he led her straight to Rooster's cell. Agatha had to force herself not to cry when she saw him sat in the same uniform in another cell, just like before. He looked up when he heard the door open and went paler when he saw her. "Aggie, I swear to god I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't mean to ruin your evening, and I didn't mean to be here again. I swear."

Agatha went inside slowly. "What happened then?" She wasn't even angry this time. Just sad and confused and hurt.

Rooster sighed. "I went out with a friend but she had to leave, and I was coming back and I saw in a shop window the till was open… and there was no one around so I just kind of went in and grabbed the contents but the owner was only in the backroom and… Well, he called the cops. And here I am."

Agatha bit her lip to prevent herself from just bursting into tears. "You didn't ruin my evening. I ruined my evening."

"What happened?!"

"He said he didn't associate himself with criminals or drunks or whatever, so I _may_ have yelled at him and called him a judgemental arse and then walked out…"

Roister smiled slightly. "Smooth."

"Well he _was_ being an arse."

"Aggie, no one likes criminals. You're so protective, but no one likes them, end of story."

"But I like you. Anyway, my date's irrelevant. What the hell were you thinking?"

"...I don't really think I was thinking at all. It just sort of… Happened." He looked shifty.

"You promised me you'd stay out of trouble. You promised." Agatha's voice cracked as she struggled to hold back tears.

Rooster looked down. "I know…"

"Why would you…?"

"I don't know. I guess I felt useless, because I can't help you. At all."

"You help me more than I can express just by being home at the end of the day. I don't need more."

"You deserve more." He smiled ruefully. "But yet again I screwed up."

Suddenly, Agatha couldn't hold back her tears any longer. She began to cry. Rooster immediately looked horrified. Agatha never cried in front of people if she could help it. "Aggie, I'm so sorry… I never meant for this to happen…"

Agatha just shook her head. "I'm not angry. I'm just so tired of having nothing and doing everything and the fact that everyone judges you for a silly mistake as if they're perfect and how I managed to screw up tonight and you're back in here but you're so young and deserve so much better but I can't give you anything more than what I've got and I really really hate Dad for screwing both our lives up so much and I wish I could say it'll get better but I don't know if it even will and I feel so helpless and I miss Mom and I never got how hopeless she felt but now I think I understand a little more and it's so horrible and I just wish it would all end."

Rooster was silent for a moment, not knowing how to respond. Eventually, he smiled slightly at her, squeezing her hand. "It will get better. I swear to you it'll get better. Because if anyone deserves better, it's you."

Agatha sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve for the second time that evening. "How? How will it get better?"

"I don't know. But we'll find a way. We always do."

"... D'you know if I can get you out?"

"I dunno… I mean, I don't think the bail is as expensive this time…?"

Agatha sighed. "Alright. Well, I guess it's just lucky for you I got my paycheck yesterday. I have around two hundred in the bank at the moment, so if I can afford to pay, I will. But not because you deserve it - you don't. You're a silly twit and I'm _very_ annoyed. But I can't face being on my own again."

Rooster smiled gratefully. "You're the best. I love you."

Agatha smiled slightly in return. "God only knows why, but I love you too."

"And you're not very good at being annoyed with me."

"Shut up, yes I am."

Rooster just laughed.

Agatha bit her lip to stop from laughing slightly as well. "I'll go find out what your bail is now."

"Alright. Bye."

"Bye." Agatha got up and went to ask what the cost of bail was this time.

…

"I've paid it. You're free to go." Agatha smiled at her brother as he looked on in disbelief.

"You paid a hundred and fifty bucks just like that?"

"Well I had it. And I wasn't just going to leave you here again." Agatha spoke calmly, but she was a mess inside. For one thing, she couldn't understand why she wasn't more angry at her brother. Last time, she'd been furious. And yet somehow she wasn't. Maybe it was because she thought she understood. When she felt especially hopeless, she'd stay up until all hours of the night, worrying and smoking. When their mother had felt hopeless, she'd drunk. And when Rooster felt hopeless, he broke the law. Different coping methods, none of them effective in solving anything, but all valid. Of course, breaking the law was an intensely bad way of dealing with things, but then so was drinking. And she'd sympathised with her mother, so it was only fair to sympathise now. And she loved her brother dearly. No matter how stupid he'd been, she loved him and that was never going to change, although sometimes she thought it'd be easier if she didn't.

Rooster stood up. "Are we going home then?"

Agatha smiled. "Yeah. We are."

Rooster signed out and then they walked back to the apartment in silence, neither of them quite sure what to say to each other. Agatha didn't trust herself not to say anything stupid, and Rooster still hadn't recovered from seeing her break down in tears the day before.

Eventually, they arrived home, and Agatha immediately disappeared into her room. She knew that she should speak to Rooster, work out what they were going to do, talk over how he could avoid trouble again. But she just didn't have the motivation to start talking about stressful subjects such as those. She'd taken the day off work, but she was scared about what would happen with James when she went back, and she didn't want to work anyhow. She was tired of work, but more than that, she was bored. There was no variation in her routine day in, day out. She had come to hate it. Instead, she just sat down on her bed, picked up her book, and began to escape from the real world into the much more beautiful one of fiction.

…

"Aggie, you can't just go on like this for the rest of your life. You need a break. You're gonna work yourself to death."

"Do I have a choice? We need every penny I earn, Roost. And it would have helped if I hadn't had to spend most of it bailing you out of jail yesterday, but that's done now so I'm not gonna go there. But we'll starve if I don't work this much."

"Take a break. One week won't affect us dramatically. We've got plenty of food, and I'm not hungry most of the time anyway. Just take a week off, relax, have fun."

"For a start, I wouldn't know what to do with myself for an entire week. And how will that solve anything?"

"... I don't know."

"I want to fall in love and marry and have a family of my own, but I can't even get through one date. Let's be honest, nobody wants to marry me. I'm just trapped in an endless cycle of work and sleep and work and sleep and work and sleep and work. And you haven't even got the work. So let's face it, at the moment both our futures are kinda screwed up. And we don't have any way to sort that out."

"Agatha Hannigan, when have you ever been so negative? Come on. Things'll work out. There'll be someone who wants to marry you. You can't lose hope after one date."

"Rooster, I've been going my entire twenty-two years on this planet saying that it'll get better, and all that's happened is that it's got worse, so I don't quite know what you think is going to happen, but certainly not a miracle. Our lives have been screwed right from the moment each of us were born. We just have to grin and bear it."

"Don't let the world knock you too far, sis. Like I tell you time and again, it will get _better_. Somehow, it'll get better. It's got to. And when it does, I'll be right there to tell you I told you so."


	6. Thirty

Agatha missed her brother. She hadn't seen him in almost a year, and she was so lonely without him. Even though she knew that the less she saw him, the better it was. It'd been eight years since he had been arrested for the second time, and since then, he'd been arrested at least twelve times more for various thing, and she'd bailed him out on around nine different occasions. She was still stuck in the same job she'd been in for fourteen years now, because each time even a small amount of money had been saved, she'd had to put it towards Rooster. He'd moved out when he was nineteen, and Agatha wasn't even sure where he was living currently; probably not somewhere pleasant. All she knew was that the cruel reality of life had changed her little brother until she barely knew him anymore. He was no longer sweet, but lazy, mean, and to put it frankly, an ass. And yet despite everything, she missed him. She missed having someone to talk to, someone who understood her, but most of all she just missed having a friendly face to come home to at the end of the day. Living alone was neither fun nor preferable to living with someone else. And though Agatha hated to admit it, she didn't really have anyone else she was even remotely close to. She was fairly private, and people made her nervous; they would judge her, or get too close and then let her down. Adults let you down. That was what she'd gained for her experience with them. Every single time. She'd been on a few more dates since her disastrous first one, but either she managed to mess up somehow, or it just didn't work. She'd never been in a serious relationship, and aged thirty, she found that embarrassing. The only person in the whole world who meant something to her was, in fact, her brother. But he'd decided the only time he needed her anymore was for money, whether that was bail money or other. And Agatha hated it.

…

Agatha came home from work one evening in a bad mood. One of the customers that evening had been particularly rude to her, persistently moaning about the service, whining about the food, complaining about the cost. It had taken all her strength not to make some sassy retort, but she wasn't going to risk her job for another rude old man. She unlocked the door of the apartment, considering what smart comments she could have responded with, and went straight into the kitchen to make her dinner.

Agatha stopped in her tracks and literally let her jaw fall open as she saw her brother sat on the sofa in the living room, a cigarette between his lips. When he saw her come in, his face lit up and he smiled lazily at her. "Sis. I was wondering when you were gonna get home."

Agatha was in complete shock. "Rooster?! How the hell did you get in?!"

He grinned and held up a key. "I've still got one. Did you forget?"

Agatha nodded, pale. "Why're you here?"

"I ain't seen you in like forever, so I figured I'd drop by. I thought you'd be pleased to see me."

"I...I am… It's just...unexpected. Weren't you in jail when I last saw you?"

"Yeah, I was, but they let me out." He shrugged.

Agatha sighed. She wasn't quite sure what to say to him. She was saved the trouble of inventing a conversation topic, however, by the appearance of a pretty young blonde from the bathroom to Agatha's left. She'd clearly been retouching the heavy makeup covering her attractive face, and she smiled when she saw Agatha, before commenting. "You're here, then."

Agatha was silent, knowing what was going on and Rooster smiled at the girl now. "Aggie, this is my friend, Lucy. Lucy, this is Agatha."

Agatha couldn't believe her eyes. She was still silent as she watched the young woman go over to her brother, perch herself on his lap, and drape herself around him like she was afraid she'd disappear. Eventually, all Agatha managed to get out was "Friend?"

Roister nodded. "We met in a bar about a month ago."

Lucy giggled. "It was real romantic."

Agatha looked apprehensive. "You in a bar, Roost? Were you drinking?"

"Of course I was drinking, that's what bars are for." He rolled his eyes.

"He's funny drunk. And kinda cute," Lucy simpered, as Rooster slid a hand around her slim waist.

"Yeah, I'll bet. Real cute, just like his mother," Agatha muttered, turning her back on the pair and starting to make herself a coffee without offering either of them one.

"That was a little uncalled for, Agatha." Rooster sounded just the slightest bit hurt.

"You've seen what alcohol does to people. Once in awhile, fine. Just don't let it happen too often."

"I'm an adult, Sis. I can do what I like. I don't need permission from you to have fun anymore."

Agatha went quiet and just focused on the coffee she was making. She didn't know why Rooster was here. Certainly not, as he claimed, just to visit her. If he missed her that desperately, he wouldn't have left it a year before dropping in. He probably needed money, judging by the state of his clothes. They were untidy and grubby, and he'd slicked his hair back with oil or something which made him look very different from when Agatha had seen him last. A lot less innocent.

When she'd finished making her coffee, she turned around to find something unexpected. Her brother was passionately kissing the blonde on his lap, apparently oblivious to how new a concept it would be for his sister to grasp. It was something Agatha wasn't at all sure she was comfortable with, and she almost dropped her drink in shock. She sat down at the table and curled her hands around her mug, determinedly not looking at her brother. She'd never seen him kiss anyone before. Hell, she'd never kissed anyone before.

Eventually, he appeared to get bored of it and moved to sit at the table opposite Agatha. She, in return, became suddenly very interested in the contents of her mug. He cleared his throat. "So, Aggie, I know it's been a while, but I was just wondering… if you could possibly lend me some money? "

Agatha glanced up at him. "Are you quite sure you've finished making out with your girlfriend on my couch before you start talking money?" She tried not to let the lump in her throat affect her speech.

He smiled complacently at her. "Oh, quite sure. Twenty bucks would do?"

Agatha shook her head. "Not happening. Last time I 'lent' you money, I didn't get one cent of it back."

"Ten?"

"I said no. Not a nickel."

He looked at her, smiling persuasively. "Oh, go on, Sis. Ten bucks just to help out your little brother?"

Agatha hesitated. After all, ten bucks wasn't all that much anyway. And he _was_ her brother. "Alright, fine. Ten. Not a penny more." She got up to get her purse and was annoyed to see Lucy with her fingers in her kitchen cabinet. Agatha glared at her. "You keep your hands off my stuff, blondie." She slammed the cabinet door shut, before grabbing her purse from the side and extracting a single ten dollar bill. She handed it to her brother indelicately, and he smiled again. "You're the best."

"Alright, whatever. You got what you came for. Now take your 'friend'-" Agatha spat this out like it was poison, "- and go away."

"Aw, Sis, don't be like that. We haven't talked for so long."

"And what do you propose we talk about? What's new? Nothing. Except your girlfriend, but I'm guessing that's not something you want to talk to me about."

"Well, have you got anyone?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know. I've been on a grand total of five dates and I've never been on more than one with the same person. I'm gonna end up alone. Hell, I'm already alone."

Lucy giggled at this and Agatha shot her a glare. Rooster just smiled. "Are you still in the same job?"

"Of course I am. I've been stuck there for fourteen years. Nothing is new. Literally nothing. So don't pretend to he interested."

"Roost, I like she wants us to leave," Lucy whispered loudly.

Rooster smiled at her. "I think you're right. Okay, darling, let's go." He grabbed her hand and kissed Agatha on the cheek. "See you soon, Aggie."

Agatha gave him a small smile, before he was lead out of the door by Lucy. She shut the door behind the pair and went to light a cigarette, slowly letting the realisation dawn that she'd finally lost her brother completely.

…

Agatha was just coming out of the kitchen with a hot plate of food for one of her customers, and then she practically dropped it in shock. Sitting at the table right opposite her was _Rooster_. It was the second time in two weeks she'd seen him and she wasn't at all sure why. Beginning to worry, she distractedly handed the customers their food and then went over to him.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?!"

Rooster looked up and smiled. "So it is your shift. I was beginning to wonder."

"What d'you want?"

"Food. Obviously. Not a very polite waitress, are we?"

Agatha glared at him. "Well why here?"

"Because the food's good."

"There's a million other places in New York."

"I don't have family in any other."

"Where's your girlfriend?"

"Eh. She's got some family thing or whatever she didn't want to bring me to."

Agatha smirked slightly. "Alright, what d'you want to eat then?"

He told her, and Agatha went into the kitchen to tell the chef. She then took a moment to go over what was going on. Why here? He probably wanted more money off her. And could he even pay for his food? She doubted it. But what was she supposed to do, kick him out? She couldn't do that. And technically he was a customer, so she couldn't make a scene. She'd just have to wait and see.

Agatha spent the rest of the evening avoiding the tables anywhere near her brother. Her colleague took him his food, and she was able to not attract the attention of anyone sitting near to him. She missed him, yes. But now, she wasn't even sure if she missed him or the person he'd been before. He'd changed so much that she didn't think he was really even the same person anymore. His years in jail had made him tougher, meaner. And she didn't like it.

After about an hour, it became obvious that Rooster wanted her attention. She'd been ignoring him for all she was worth, but finally she couldn't pretend she hadn't noticed anymore, and she went over to where he was sitting. "Yeah?"

"I need money."

"You're kidding me."

"Twenty bucks, Sis?"

"No." Agatha was firm. She knew this had had to be coming.

"I need it real bad, Aggie. I ain't even really got the cash to pay for tonight."

"Well that's your own fault then isn't it?"

"D'you want me to go to jail?" He sounded pleading, and although Agatha knew he was probably just acting, she couldn't help but feel guilty. She bit her lip. "Why should I help?"

"Because you're my sister and I love you?"

Agatha sighed. "I'll pay for your food. Nothing else."

"And where do I sleep tonight?"

"Sleep where you like. It ain't my problem."

"I need money."

"You're so pathetic, you know that?" Agatha forced herself to be tough on him, despite the fact that she was feeling guilty.

Rooster scowled at her. "You'll be sorry."

"Oh I will, will I? Okay, fine. Are you finished? Good. Then you can leave." She glared at him, hands on hips, as he reluctantly got up and picked up his coat. Agatha watched him as he slowly made his way out, before getting her purse and pulling out the little money in it on the table to pay for her brother's meal. She felt slightly uneasy, despite her calm manner, about what he'd said. Her brother was twenty-five years old, a criminal, very strong, and with a key to her home. It felt awful to be scared by him, but she was. She'd thought that once her parents were dead, she'd be able to live without fear of a family member, but she'd been wrong. Rooster wasn't pathetic, she was.

…

"He wants to see you in his office. That's all he said."

Agatha bit her lip and looked at her colleague suspiciously. "Why'd he wanna see me? I ain't done anything."

"How the hell should I know? But when the boss wants you, you go."

Agatha nodded. It was the day after Rooster had visited her at work, and coming in the next morning, she'd arrived to find everything at a standstill. She'd been just about to enquire what was going on when she'd been told her boss wanted to see her. She was nervous, although she wasn't sure why. It wasn't like she'd done anything wrong. Agatha went into the office and slowly shut the door behind her. "You wanted to see me, Sir?"

Her boss nodded, looking grim. "Sit down, Hannigan."

Agatha sat down quietly, feeling almost embarrassed about how scared she was. She was thirty years old, why couldn't she pull herself together? She avoided looking at her boss, instead gazing into her lap, and waited for him to speak.

He cleared his throat. "Firstly, am I to understand you spent a considerable amount of time talking to a certain customer last night rather than working?"

Agatha swallowed. "He's my brother, Sir. I don't see him often and I was confused as to why he was here."

"Nice family catch up, huh?"

"Not exactly…"

"I believe your job doesn't involve chatting?"

"No, Sir, but-"

"And also, apparently you paid for his meal?"

"Yes, Sir, he didn't have any money."

"Hmmm."

"I won't do it in future."

"No. You won't. As a matter of fact, Hannigan, your brother left a rather lovely note for you here last night. In the cash register."

Agatha went pale. "What did it say…?"

He handed her a scrap of paper covered in a messy scrawl Agatha recognised immediately as her brother's. She hurriedly read what it said:

'Dear Agatha, I'm sorry for this, really, but I said I needed money, and living on the streets loses it's appeal after a while. Your boss will probably call the cops on me, but let's face it, they won't find me. Again, I'm sorry, but you gave me no option. Hope you don't miss me too much. Love, your favourite brother, Roost xx.'

Agatha put it down, looking sick. "What'd he do?"

"He took - or rather, stole - a large amount of money of money from the register."

Agatha swallowed again. "How _much_ is a rather large amount?"

"Just over $200."

"You're kidding."

"I'm afraid I'm not."

"I'm sorry, I should just have lent him some, I didn't think he'd ever-"

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it."

Agatha went silent. She couldn't believe what was happening. She didn't _want_ to believe it. But she knew it was completely true. She looked up slowly. "Sir, I-"

"Did I or did I not say shut up? Now. You've worked here for what, fourteen years? A long time. Maybe too long. Maybe you need a change. And now this. I really don't think I can risk it happening again. Needless to say, I will be pressing charges, but believe me, if I could keep you here I would. You're a good, hard working girl, and you're pretty valuable. But I'm afraid I don't have an option. Hannigan, you're fired."

Agatha went white as a sheet. "Sir?"

"Goodbye, Agatha. I hope you find somewhere else soon. I really do." His voice had a touch of regret, but also a tone of finality which she couldn't avoid and she stood up numbly, forcing a smile. "Bye, Sir. Thank you for everything."

She went out quickly, head down, ignoring the clamouring of questions she was bombarded with directly she left the room. She barged out of the door, and made her way quickly down the street, still not quite able to comprehend what had just happened. She'd just lost her job. She was unemployed. She was going to starve. What about the rent, the bills, food, clothes?! Without money, what was she going to do?! Fourteen years of working incredibly hard just to survive, and she was kicked out because of something that wasn't even her fault. It was almost unreal. Agatha felt a lump rise in her throat as she pushed open the front door. How could he have done this to her? Her brother, her _own_ brother. Someone she'd known since he was born, and he was willing to risk her _job_ just because he was down on his luck. Any place in the whole of New York city and he'd chosen to steal from the place she worked at. Use to work at, Agatha reminded herself. And why? Because she hadn't lent her brother money. The only reason he even came to see her nowadays. Agatha sat down on the sofa and put her face in her hands. What was she even doing?! Thirty years old, with not a single accomplishment she could be proud of. She could count on one hand the number of days she would honestly want to remember in the future. The day she met her baby brother for the first time, the day Agatha had skipped school to be with her mother because Beth had claimed to miss her, the day she and Rooster had spent the day in Central Park without a care, and of course the very special day when she'd been four and her mother had told her she was expecting another baby and everyone had been happy.

Agatha curled up in frustration. She was so freaking sentimental. If she wanted to get through life, she couldn't spend any more time moping around and feeling sorry for herself. She needed a new job, something different and original, something she would enjoy. A job which would allow her to earn enough money to live comfortably and be able to afford the extras she'd always longed for.

…

Well, it wasn't quite the thing she'd been looking for, but it was a job with no qualifications needed, free room and board, gas and electric, and she'd never be lonely. After all, the one thing guaranteed for an orphanage mistress was company. Children, admittedly, but company all the same. Not to mention that she'd been out of work for almost three months. _And_ if she lived in the orphanage, Rooster would hardly be able to see her often, and that was a good thing. Sort of.

Agatha looked at the address of the place. 256 Hudson Street. And an all girls orphanage. The pay wasn't great, but with no rent and no other bills, she was pretty sure she'd be able to live fairly comfortably on it. Could she look after children? Probably, she guessed. She'd brought up Rooster practically single handedly (she firmly pushed away the thought of how much she'd screwed that up), and she was sure she could manage twenty or so young girls if she had no other occupations. She looked down at the newspaper advertisement and sighed. It was the first job she'd found in three months, and maybe it was just what she needed. A new start in somewhere a little way away from where she lived now. It would be very different, but it wasn't like she had anything to stop her. Agatha made her decision. She'd call the number below and give it a try. What could possibly go wrong? She picked up the phone and dialled the number. As the phone began to ring, Agatha smiled. Finally, she was doing something she could be proud of.


	7. Thirty-Eight

"Alright, I'm coming! Hang on!" Agatha ran down the stairs to the front door of the orphanage and opened it. Standing on the doorstep was a big policeman, and with him a little girl who looked about two. Agatha smiled at her and the girl almost smiled back. In almost eight years of working at the orphanage, Agatha didn't think she'd ever seen a little girl who looked so calm and quiet, especially considering she was most likely recently orphaned. She turned to the policeman, whom she vaguely knew, and looked questioningly at him. "Is she another one for me?"

He nodded. "Little girl of two. Her name's Pepper. She's had a pretty rubbish time of it. Her parents didn't get on. He cheated and then her mother… Well, decided she didn't want to live with that. She's dead. And her father ain't in much of a fit state to look after a kid, so we had to take her. She don't have a lot of stuff, just a couple of toys and some clothes."

Agatha bent down in front of the small child and held out her hand. "Hi, Pepper."

Pepper smiled slightly and took her hand confidently. She looked strangely sad, in a way far too mature for someone so young. Agatha felt her heart ache for the little girl. That was one of the things she hated about her job - the children were always so much more grown up than they should be, and had always experienced so much loss already by the time they got here. On the other hand, they weren't exactly unhappy with her. She looked after them as best she could, and to the extent of her knowledge they were never too lonely or deprived of anything much.

Agatha lifted the little girl up now and took her bag of belongings from the police officer. "You have her file?"

He handed it to her and smiled. "I should be on my way."

"Of course. See you around." Agatha smiled as she shut the door and looked at the small child in her arms. Brown hair, brown eyes, a pretty nose, and very, very calm. She carried her upstairs and went into the younger girls' room. The age range was between complete baby and four and yet somehow Agatha didn't think it would be fair to put this girl in with the loud, screaming babies. She could already tell that this child was far more mature than most of them, and so she decided to put Pepper in the middle room, where the age ranged from five up to ten. She went into the room and one of the older ones, a ten year old girl named Sophie, immediately came running over. "Who's that?!"

Agatha smiled. "This is Pepper. She's coming in here with you and the others."

"But she looks about three!" Sophie whined.

"She's two. And you'll look after her."

"But Miss Hannigan, she'll cry and be loud and make a mess and-"

"Alright, that's enough," Agatha cut in, giving Sophie a stern look. "No more whining, she's in here, end of story. She just lost her mother, so be nice."

Sophie sighed. "And her dad?"

"That is none of your business." Agatha placed Pepper on the empty bed at the end of the room and handed Sophie her things. "I want you to unpack her clothes and toys, and make her feel at home. If there's any trouble, call me. I'll be downstairs." Agatha smiled at her before taking Pepper's file out of the bag and heading downstairs to her office to read it. She sat down at the desk and pulled out the piece of paper documenting the child's whole life. Her full name, date of birth, and parentage amongst other things. It wasn't a very uplifting file, but then again, not many of the kids had positive life stories - that's why they ended up here. That's why she'd ended up here too. Not that Agatha was unhappy. She wasn't. In fact, this was probably the happiest she'd ever been. She rarely saw her brother, and more often than not, she managed to avoid anything more than giving money. Nothing to do with his jail life. She'd stopped smoking, which in turn meant she had a lot more spare money and she wasn't as thin and tired as before, but healthy, and although she was rarely full of energy, she enjoyed her job a lot more. She was certainly never bored, that was for sure. And bringing smiles to the faces of children who had gone through things like her or even worse was something Agatha enjoyed. Even though it got a little lonely from time to time with no one over sixteen to talk to most of the time, she was fine. She occasionally talked to the laundry man, or the policeman when he brought a new girl for her, and she'd convinced herself that she didn't need anyone else. The children liked and respected her, which was more than any adult had ever done. So she was happy.

All of a sudden, Agatha was jolted out of her thoughts by loud yelling coming from upstairs. By the sounds of things, the source of the noise was the room in which she'd just left Pepper. As she stood up and made her way up the stairs, Agatha was reminded, as she often was whenever anyone so much as raised their voice around her, of her parents' numerous fights. Yet again, she pushed the memory out of her brain. It was irrelevant in the middle of a petty kids' fight. How stupid was it to even associate the two things?

Pushing open the door, Agatha found Sophie glaring furiously at Pepper and nursing a bleeding finger. The other girl was sat on the bed looking defiantly stubborn and calm, and again Agatha was struck by the wide range of emotions displayed in the face of someone so young.

"Okay, what happened?" She demanded, looking at Sophie.

"She bit me!" Sophie whined, holding up her finger, which wasn't _really_ bleeding all that much.

Agatha raised her eyebrows. "And why would she do that?"

"Because I don't know! All I did was touch her stupid doll!" Sophie looked crossly at Pepper, who bared her sharp little teeth fiercely, clutching the aforementioned doll.

Agatha sighed. "I think you owe her an apology for touching her things." She held up a hand as Sophie opened her mouth to retort. "I think Pepper should apologise too." She glanced at the little girl, who violently shook her head. "No!"

Agatha knelt down in front of her. "Pepper, biting is not at all nice and you owe Sophie an apology. Now say sorry, please."

Pepper hesitated for a moment before quietly mumbling "Sorry."

Agatha smiled. "Good girl. Now, Sophie?"

"... I'm sorry I touched your stuff…" Sophie muttered.

Agatha nodded. "Good. Now, do you need a bandaid for your finger?"

Sophie shook her head. "No. Not really. It only bled a little bit."

"Then can I trust you and Pepper to get on okay while I go downstairs and sort some things out?"

Sophie nodded slowly. "Yes."

Satisfied, Agatha now headed back downstairs.

…

"Alright, bedtime," Agatha told the girls, as she saw more than a couple of them beginning to looked tired and hide yawns. It was almost half past eight, which meant that the younger children were already asleep and the older ones had another hour, but for the middle ones, it was time for them to start getting to bed. There was a general chorus of moaning and protesting, but Agatha was firm. If not they would all be tired the next morning, and twenty exhausted children was hardly her ideal situation. It was Christmas break at the moment as well, which meant that she didn't even have time to breathe when all the kids who were old enough to went to school, because they were at the orphanage the whole time. And the next day was New Year's Eve, so they weren't likely to get an awful lot of sleep then. She loved them, but sometimes she'd appreciate having a break from the little girls.

Eventually, they all got into their beds, and quiet fell upon the room. Agatha smiled contentedly and switched off the light. "Sweet dreams." She shut the door gently and made her way downstairs. Even though it was early, she was tired. In the last week, at least half the girls had been sick, one had sprained her wrist and another had almost broken her neck falling down the stairs. Life was far from uneventful. She went into her own room, a small one adjoining her office, with her own bathroom separate from the rest of the building. Her's was a nice room, with all the things that meant anything to her in there. It was an escape from the kids, and they were only allowed in in an emergency, so Agatha liked nothing more than to retreat there after a busy day when all the girls were in bed, or in their dormitories, quiet.

Picking up her book and curling up with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, Agatha smiled contentedly. She was sleepy, warm, and cosy, and she could go to bed knowing she'd got one more little girl to look after and love, but at the same time that she was doing do much good already, and at last she had something to be proud of.

…

Agatha was abruptly awoken the next morning by the shrill ringing of the doorbell. She groaned and slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. Laundry day. She'd forgotten. Agatha glanced at the clock on the table by her bed. Seven. She slowly rolled out of bed, slipped on her thin cotton bathrobe, and tiredly went to answer the door. Standing outside on the step was Mr. Bundles, the laundry man. He smiled when she opened the door. "Morning, Miss Hannigan."

Agatha smiled back, hiding a yawn. "Hey. I'm afraid I completely forgot what day it was today, so if you could possibly wait a little bit just for me to get the girls to strip their beds?"

He nodded. "Sure. I'm in no rush, love."

Agatha looked grateful, and went to wake the orphans upstairs, running through the short conversation in her head. She was always so awkward around other adults, especially men. But it was fine. That had been a normal conversation. Nothing had gone wrong as far as she could tell. She quietly went into the first dormitory and turned on the light, before waking the girls up and gently telling them to take the sheets off their beds for the laundry.

About ten minutes later, when all the beds were almost done and the girls were just sorting out where to put them in the basket, Agatha went back downstairs. Mr. Bundles was patiently waiting at the door with his hands in his pockets. She smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. I'm so disorganised."

"No worries. It's gotta be difficult keeping up with so many kids. Twenty full time has got to be ridiculous."

Agatha laughed slightly. "I'm never bored. Or lonely."

"That's true. Living alone is pretty dull."

She nodded. "I can sympathise."

"I mean… I'm glad I got that divorce, but it doesn't mean it isn't not lonely sometimes."

Agatha smiled awkwardly. "If you ever want to talk I'm not going anywhere."

He nodded. "You know, I'd appreciate that."

Agatha was just about to reply when they were interrupted by three of the orphans carrying the laundry basket to the door. She smiled at them. "Thank you, girls." Agatha waited as Mr. Bundles took the basket from then and she awkwardly smiled again. "I guess I'll see you in a fortnight then…"

He smiled. "Unless I decide to take you up on your offer."

Agatha nodded. "... Bye, then… Oh, and happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, darling." He carried the laundry to his van and Agatha shut the door slowly. She wished the kids had waited a little while before bringing the sheets down. She enjoyed talking to him. It made a lovely change from children and even if she was ridiculously awkward, she almost felt a little more relaxed. They were friends. And she was happy with that. Just friends. Just someone to talk to occasionally. She was allowed to enjoy it. But even though they didn't ever talk for more than a few minutes, she was beginning to feel like she was getting too close. She'd never really been very good at making friends, so maybe that was why. At the same time, she was confused. Was she being paranoid? Was she overthinking this ridiculously? Were they even friends? She didn't know. She liked him lots, but that was part of what was confusing because she didn't know what type of like it was.

As Agatha walked into the kitchen to begin making breakfast for the orphans, she firmly told herself to get it together. She was almost forty, for goodness sake. She really needed to stop worrying about everything so much. So, she talked to one man. Once a fortnight. So what? He was nice. She wasn't used to it. Nothing more.

Thankfully, Agatha was distracted from anymore confusing or distressing thoughts by the appearance of little Pepper, who seemed by some miracle to have managed the stairs all by herself. Now, she lifted her arms up to Agatha, who picked her up. "Hey, Pepper. What's the matter, sweetheart?"

Pepper simply buried her face into Agatha's shoulder, so Agatha just held her tightly for a little while. Finally, Pepper looked up, wide-eyed, but not crying. Agatha smiled at her. "Better?"

Pepper nodded, and began to wriggle, clearly wanting to be put down. Agatha set her on the floor and started to make breakfast, aware of Pepper watching her intently from her spot on the floor, not exactly upset, but a little subdued. Agatha smiled to herself. Sometime children really weren't all that bad.

…

Agatha sighed in relief, closing the door to the final dormitory quietly and padding downstairs to her room, trying to make as little noise as possible. She'd just managed to get all the girls in bed and, if not asleep then at least quiet. It was almost twelve, but she'd let them stay up later tonight because it was New Year's Eve. Now though, Agatha was looking forward to welcoming in the new year with a simple mug of coffee and a warm bed. Nothing very exciting, but it had a sort of comforting appeal to her. New year, new start and all that. And anyway, she was tired. Well, more tired than usual.

A couple of minutes later, Agatha was curled up against a pillow, a blanket around her knees and holding a hot mug of coffee. New Year's Eve. Ten minutes until 1923. She began unwilling to wonder if she'd see her brother at all this year. She'd lost count of how long it had been since she'd last seen him. A long time. After she'd got her job here, Rooster had visited her after about a year of no contact, and she'd yelled at him and he'd yelled at her and that was about it. Since then, he'd dropped in every so often to 'borrow' money. And somehow, he never left without it. He had a way with words that meant Agatha found it difficult not to give him what he wanted. And every time he came, he seemed to have a different girlfriend. Agatha couldn't remember half of their names, but to be fair she was pretty sure he couldn't either.

Agatha forced herself to stop thinking about him. He was unimportant. She looked at the clock. Five minutes to midnight. Instead, she could think of positive things, like the girls getting adopted, and doing well at school and… what else was positive? Flowers and laughing and love and… smiling. Smiling was positive. So she'd try and smile more next year. And talk to new people and worry less and be a better person and eat less cake and some more generic resolutions she was sure everyone made and no one stuck to. A minute until midnight. Agatha took a sip of coffee and watched as the seconds counted down. 30… 20… 10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Midnight. Agatha heard the chimes of the church clock around the corner, and all of a sudden heard a baby begin to scream. She sighed and put down her mug, going upstairs to investigate. What a way to start the year. But everything was quiet upstairs. None of the children were making a sound. Agatha went back down, but she could still hear screaming. She listened carefully. It appeared to be coming from the front door. She hurried to open it, and was amazed to find a baby on her doorstep, wrapped in a blanket, with a note tucked into the side of it, and half a broken silver locket around her neck. The poor child was screaming so much that her face almost matched her shock of ginger hair. Agatha picked her up and gently began to rock her. "Shhh, darling, it's alright. What's your name, hey?" She picked up the note with her spare hand, and read the contents, still rocking the little girl who gradually began to calm down.

'Please take good care of our little darling. Her name is Annie. She was born on October 18th. We will be back to get her soon. We have left half of a silver locket around her neck so that when we come back for her you'll know that she's our baby.'

Agatha kissed the girl's forehead and cast a look onto the empty street, but there was no one in sight. She shut the door, and carried the baby girl into her office. Apart from the blanket, the baby was dressed in a faded pink cotton suit, and she was very cold and tiny. Two months old, abandoned at an orphanage. The note had read that her parents would come back for her, but Agatha doubted it. She'd heard that story many times before. Agatha took Annie into her room, and set her on the bed up against the wall. She couldn't take her up to a dormitory when all the others were asleep. Well, maybe the baby could just stay down here until the morning. Agatha sat down, moving the girl into her lap. She picked up the coffee and took a sip. It had gone cold. So much for a relaxing start to the year. Still, it didn't matter. What mattered more was how anyone in their right mind could leave a two-month-old baby out in the freezing cold on the doorstep of an orphanage, especially on New Year's Eve. Obviously, they may not have been able to afford a child, but to choose a day like this was just cruel. And they should have knocked. If she hadn't heard the crying, who knew if the poor thing would even have survived the night?

Suddenly the little girl started crying again. Agatha sighed and began once more to calm her. So much for sleep.

…

"David and Margaret Bennett. Both twenty. Killed in a fire. They had a young baby girl, but we couldn't find any trace of her in the rubble. One of the neighbours claims to have seen Bennett go out with the child late last night, and come back after midnight without her. We figured he might have taken her to a relative, but we couldn't track down any. And the closest orphanage to where they live is here, so I figured there was a chance you may have the kid. She was called something like… Annette?"

"Annie?"

"That was it."

Agatha nodded slowly. "Yeah… yeah, she was dropped off last night…"

The office nodded. "I just wanted to know she was in good hands. Seems like the Bennets were pretty poor. Struggling. Probably couldn't afford a child."

Agatha swallowed slightly. "Her parents… they're definitely dead?"

He nodded again. "'Fraid so, Miss Hannigan. And they were both so young. It's just lucky they brought the kid here last night or she'd be dead too."

Agatha smiled weakly. "Well… Thanks for stopping by."

"I'm not supposed you tell you any of this, mind. We're still investigating the causes of the fire and it's classified. As far as anyone else is concerned, you know nothing about Annie's parents."

"And… can I tell Annie?"

"Not until she leaves. Either when she outgrows the system or she gets adopted."

"That seems… unfair."

"I don't make the rules. I'm breaking them just by telling you, but I know you won't let it slip. You know kids. They can't keep a secret."

Agatha nodded slightly. "Alright… Well… See you around."

"Bye."

Agatha shut the door and felt her heart sink. Yet another child growing up without parents. No matter how hard she tried, she was never going to be able to fill in for both parents of each of the twenty odd kids she was in charge of. She looked after them well and they liked her (she hoped) but it was never going to be anymore than that. And realistically, that was the best way for it to be. Happy, but not too happy. Then, when they left, neither they nor she would get hurt. At least that's what she told herself. She did love them though. Mostly, they treated her with respect, and that was something she liked. Although she'd never really been very good with children before working here, she had learnt and was still learning. And who knew? Maybe one day she might even have a proper family of her own. But for now, she was pretty happy with her life. There was enough money to live by even if she did have to force ends to meet a lot of the time. The orphans were never hungry. The board of orphans made sure she had enough money to provide for them, and she had to make do with her somewhat small salary herself.

Agatha was distracted from her thoughts again by the cries of a baby upstairs. She began to head to the dormitory, glad for a reason to escape her own head. Sometimes she wished her thoughts would just disappear altogether. She was overtaken by three girls sprinting up the stairs, apparently in the middle of a game if tag, and almost knocked over by one running downstairs. She smiled. At least the holidays would soon be over and she could send the older ones off to school and get some peace and quiet. Agatha went into the dormitory to find the source of the crying was Annie. The baby was wriggling in her crib, evidently wanting to get out. Well, unsurprisingly. It was a new environment and would take some getting used to. Agatha bent down and picked the little girl up, cradling her gently. She wished children wouldn't cry so much. It was an awful noise and it always meant they wanted something. It would be so much easier if the younger ones could just speak. And every time one of them cried, she was reminded of when her brother had been young and needy and she'd had to help with him an awful lot because her mother often hadn't been sober enough to hold her child. He'd always calmed down when Agatha was there, though. But those times were long. God, how she missed them now.


	8. Forty

"No, I am not making a cake, yes, you do have to go to school, no, you're not playing catch with my belongings, and Pepper, you are four years old, give me that knife!" Agatha held out her hand and Pepper reluctantly handed her the knife. Agatha put it on the kitchen surface, before turning back to the collection of children in front of her, groaning internally. "Alright. Sophie and Megan, go get dressed for school, Pepper, go and play upstairs or something, Alice go and grab your books, and Annie… Sophie, can you take Annie up with you? Just settle her with some toy or whatever."

Sophie nodded and picked up Annie, before trailing out of the kitchen after the other orphans. Agatha took a deep breath and went to sit down in her office. Sometimes, she honestly felt as if she was going mad. There were girls everywhere, and she was constantly tripping over them, or being nagged to do something. She didn't have a single peaceful minute to herself most days, and as well as that, bills were piling up left, right and centre. Despite the fact that the city was supposed to cover all costs of running the place, Agatha was beginning to have to pay bills out of her own salary because the board of orphans was so unreliable. Everything was busy and loud and stressful, and Agatha was tired. She'd thought she was past the days when she'd have to stay up until the early hours of the morning figuring out how to pay the bills, but apparently not. And perhaps the worst thing about it all was how lonely she was. It sounded ridiculous, but even in the midst of all the orphans here, she felt isolated. Separate. She was a caretaker, a guardian, but she wasn't loved. It sounded childish, she knew, but she was no longer content with respect. She wanted love. She was aching for someone to love her, to come and talk to her because they wanted to rather than because they needed something, for someone to hug her without wishing she was someone else. She knew they did. All of them secretly wished she was their parents, and it was understandable but that didn't make it any better. She'd been working here too long and it was getting to her. She'd only been thirty when she started. Fairly young, excited for a change, for something new. Now, she was forty. Practically middle-aged. She had no aim at all, no direction she was heading for. Just doing the same thing day after day after day. It was beginning to mess with her head. She over thought everything, never had a moment's peace, and didn't have a single person to vent to. She couldn't place all of her stress on a child, and besides, it wasn't like any of them knew her well enough to understand. She knew their entire life stories, and they knew her name.

Suddenly, Agatha was jolted out of her mess of thoughts by the shrill piercing of the front doorbell. Groaning, she got up from her desk and went to answer it. It was a young couple dressed in clothing so expensive that Agatha almost squeaked out loud. She stopped herself just in time, and smiled, subconsciously smoothing out her skirt. "Can I help you?"

The man stepped forward. "We'd like to adopt a child."

Agatha nodded. "Right. Okay. You want to come through to my office?"

The man nodded and Agatha led the way to her office, aware of how messy it was. She offered them both a seat, and then sat down at her desk. "What kind of a child were you thinking of?"

The woman smiled delicately. "Oh, I should love a sweet little girl. Young and pretty."

Agatha pulled out a couple of files. "How young is young?"

"About two would be _perfect_."

Agatha nodded again, noticing them both gazing a little disdainfully around her office, sure they were judging both it and her. She pushed this thought away, and extracted two files from the pile. "Well, we only have a couple kids aged two at the moment. Annie and Amber. I can take you to meet both if you like?"

The woman nodded, and Agatha stood up, leading them upstairs and into the dormitory in which both Annie and Amber were playing contentedly in their separate cribs. Annie was standing and laughing, her red hair a positive mess, and she looked fairly boisterous. Amber, a much more delicate little girl, with blonde hair and blue eyes, was sat angelically in her crib, clutching a doll. The couple were immediately drawn to her, and Agatha felt an immense amount of pity for Annie, whose cheerful expression dropped as soon as the couple turned their backs on her. She gave the little girl a sympathetic smile, before directing her attention back at Amber.

"What's the name of this one?" The woman asked, smiling at Amber.

"This is Amber," Agatha said, gently lifting the little girl up and giving her a hug. No one in the place could help having a soft spot for her.

"I want her," the woman said, almost brattily.

Agatha glanced at her husband, who nodded. She smiled. 'I'll just ask you to come back to my office and sign a couple of forms, and get her things together, and then she's all yours."

The woman smiled delightedly at Amber, who giggled prettily. Agatha couldn't help but laugh as well. Another kid going to a good home with people who hopefully would give her unlimited love and devotion. Lucky thing.

…

Agatha closed the door on the couple in relief, glad she didn't have to do anymore talking. They were far too high a class of people for her, and normally she avoided them at all costs. She always felt fairly inferior around people like that.

She went into her office to finish the paperwork for the adoption, and then decided she should probably go upstairs and check on the other children. She found them all quite content in amusing themselves, and for once she was inclined just to leave them to their own devices. They couldn't cause much trouble, and she needed a break. Agatha went back downstairs to her room, sat down on the bed, and opened a book.

…

"It is seven o'clock, the younger children are sleeping, Sophie, stop yelling. If you want something, either ask in a normal voice or go ask someone else."

Sophie sighed dramatically. "Miss Hannigan, _please_ can I have a cookie?"

Agatha reluctantly nodded. "Okay. Go get one and then go upstairs and be quiet, alright?"

Sophie grinned. "I'll be real quiet!" She ran off into the kitchen and Agatha sighed. At least it _was_ fairly quiet now. Most of the girls had done their homework, they'd all been fed, and were now upstairs talking or playing, making little noise. It was her favourite part of the day.

Agatha went back into her bedroom and was contemplating making herself another coffee, when she suddenly froze. She let out a little squeak of surprise, going pale, as she saw, sitting on her chair and looking extremely smug, Rooster. He stood up when she came in, and Agatha, still in a state of shock, gave him a slight smile, but couldn't find her voice at all.

"Aggie," Rooster greeted her, giving her a kiss on her cheek.

Agatha nodded. "Hello."

Rooster flashed her a grin. "You need to invest some time in locking your back door."

"You could just knock on the front one like a normal person," Agatha muttered, not sure what else to say. She was not at all thrilled to see him; she was already short on money. Well, this time he wasn't getting any.

Rooster laughed at this response. "But then you wouldn't let me in."

"I wonder why," Agatha said flatly.

"Aw, c'mon Sis, don't be like that."

"Aren't you s'posed to be in jail?"

"As of yesterday, no."

"What d'you want?"

Rooster looked reproachfully at her. "Am I not allowed to visit my favourite sister?"

"I'm your only sister. And you haven't visited me for an honest reason in what, fifteen years?"

"So talk to me now. How are you?"

Agatha looked at him distrustfully. "Don't give me that crap. You may as well leave, because I ain't giving you a cent of my money."

Rooster just smirked. "I've heard that one before."

Agatha scowled. "I'm serious. Go away."

Rooster sat back down in the chair and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. "Tell me how you are."

"I'd be a lot better if you'd leave."

Rooster lit a cigarette and leaned forward, for the first time looking less than friendly. "Isn't it nice to have someone ask? I bet you don't get it often."

Agatha sighed. "Alright, fine. I'm a little bit crap. I'm tired, I'm poor, and I'm still single."

Rooster took a drag on his cigarette. "Join the club."

"What did you do, dump your last blonde?"

"Something like that."

Agatha didn't know what to say, so she just went silent. Rooster looked at her closely. "You'd be pretty if you did something with your hair. It's too plain."

She frowned. "What?"

"You said you were still single. Well, do something with your hair and wear a little make-up and you'd be a hell of a lot more likely to get a date. Guys go for your looks, not your brain."

Agatha opened her mouth to retort and then shut it again. Where was the lie? Rooster blew out a cloud of smoke and she gave him a glare. "Do you mind?"

"Agatha Hannigan, just because you have alarmingly rigid morals, doesn't mean I have to follow them. You used to smoke way more than I ever do, until you decided it was wrong, so stop being a goddamn hypocrite and learn to chill."

Agatha scowled at him again. "How long exactly do you plan on staying? Because I wanna sleep."

He shrugged. "Well, I'm not going anywhere yet."

"Why, exactly?"

" _Because_ I need to ask a favour."

Agatha groaned. "I said no."

"Hey. Hear me out. Just yesterday afternoon, soon as they let me outta jail, I put ten bucks on a horse. Odds were ten to one, and thank god the damn thing won, so I'm owed a hundred bucks. All I need is something to see me 'til tomorrow."

Agatha shook her head. "I told you no."

"Please?"

She shook her head determinedly. "Can't you take no for an answer?!"

Then Rooster did something which alarmed her. He grabbed her by the wrist and although she resisted, held on tight. "No. I can't take no for an answer, because I need a goddamn place to sleep. Now either give me the money or give me your purse so I can get it myself."

Agatha wriggled her wrist, but she'd forgotten how strong he was. "Let me go, Roost."

"Ten bucks is all I need. Then you're free."

Agatha bit her lip. After all, it was only ten. She had been planning to spend it on a new pair of stockings which she had been needing for ages, and although she supposed they could wait, something in her rebelled against the idea of giving into him again. "I said no, goddammit. Just go the hell away." She glared.

And then suddenly, unexpectedly, Rooster slapped her. Hard. Hard enough that tears sprang to her eyes the moment his palm made contact with her face. She felt his nail catch ever so slightly on her cheek, and when she lifted her free hand to touch it, she found blood on her fingers. She looked at him in horror and for the first time, fear. He'd just hit her. Really, properly hit her. Agatha blinked back the tears which were threatening to spill down her face, and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She just looked at him in desperation, praying that maybe it had been a mistake, that he'd apologise and beg for her forgiveness, that it hadn't meant anything. Rooster looked back at her coldly. "Your purse, Agatha?"

She reached onto the bed and handed it to him silently, her hand trembling. Rooster extracted not one, but three ten dollar bills, and then handed it back to her. Agatha made no protest, only watching nervously as he smiled at her, gave her a kiss on the uninjured cheek, and then left without another word.

Agatha sat very still, not quite sure what she was supposed to do. After a while, she gave up trying to hold back tears, and they dripped slowly down her cheeks, making the cut sting even more. She picked up a handkerchief off her nightstand and held it up to her cheek. This was something she'd experienced regularly from her father and sometimes even her mother when Beth had been very drunk, but never, _never_ Rooster. Sure, he'd changed, but she hadn't been even slightly aware of just how much. He was barely the same person. Agatha choked back a sob. She had so many different memories and thoughts going round and round in her head, clearer than they had been in a long time. When her brother had said she mustn't let anyone hurt her, for example. Or when Beth had made her promise to look after herself. The time her parents had gotten into a really bad fight and Beth had had a swollen lip for almost four days. Every time she'd sheltered Rooster from Steve, every time she'd taken the punishment for him, every time she'd promised him they would be okay, every time that had been a lie. Agatha struggled to stop crying. She needed to escape. She didn't know where or how, but she knew that the only thing she wanted was to get away from here. Standing up, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red, and she could very obviously see the cut in her cheek. It was only small, but no less prominent for that. She sniffed and dabbed her cheek with the handkerchief, before wiping her eyes and looking at herself again properly. Her hair was a mess and she definitely looked like she'd been crying. But to be honest, she didn't care. It didn't matter. Agatha shoved on a pair of shoes, and paused. Where would she go? Anywhere where there were people, so she wouldn't be left alone with her own thoughts. She wiped her eyes again, and went to the front door, hesitating as she unlocked it. She knew she was being irresponsible. She should at least tell one of the older ones she was going out, but she couldn't bare for them to see her like this, with a bleeding face and still crying slightly. She needed time to work things out. And honestly? She'd given up caring. They'd be fine for half an hour. It wasn't like she was planning on going far. Agatha went outside, and for a moment, the warm air and the smell of the city made her feel a little calmer. She took a deep breath, and started to walk. She was vaguely aware of where she was going, and suddenly Agatha had a thought that even an hour ago would have been unthinkable to her. But in her state of upset and hurt, it seemed like maybe the only option. The speakeasy. She knew where it was. Everyone knew where it was, although they didn't talk about it. Needless to say she'd never been inside before, but tonight she was feeling reckless. Who the hell would care anyway? She could go in, clear her head, and maybe have one drink just to calm her nerves. It was going against all her morals, but maybe (although she hated to admit it) her brother had been right. What harm was there in relaxing then slightly, just this once? Agatha took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.

It was loud inside. Very loud. And dark. There were a lot of people, drinking , smoking, talking. Exactly the kind of environment she'd avoided for a very long time. But somehow, the overwhelming smell of cheap alcohol was oddly comforting. It was so familiar all of a sudden, and maybe she could at least rely on that to stay constant, no matter what else changed. She imagined that Rooster probably spent a good deal of time in these sorts of places, which again made her question what she was doing here. Had she locked the door to the orphanage? Yes and they were probably all asleep. It was fine. She pushed the thought out of her mind, and managed to get through to the bar at the end of the room, keeping her eyes down. She kept picturing Beth telling her to look after herself, but Agatha strengthened her resolve, determined not to be intimidated by it all. Who cared what anyone else said? It was her life and she could do what she wanted to. Or at least for now. Agatha say down on a stool at the bar and debated over the rather limited choice of alcohol. She wasn't expecting it to be good quality, but all the same she decide she'd go for the cheapest one anyway. She ordered a gin.

Agatha waited for it nervously, still not convinced she should be here. But her stinging cheek and her feelings of hurt and fear reminded her. She was here because she had nowhere else to go. She looked around, and saw that everyone else here looked quite a bit younger than her at twenty or thirty, although it was so dark that she couldn't tell completely. She was forty and that scared her. Another reason she was here. It was weird to think that everything in her life had led up to this moment.

The guy behind the bar handed her the drink now and Agatha was jolted out of her daydreaming. She almost smiled as she lifted up the glass. The gin smelt disgustingly cheap, but she hadn't been expecting anything more. It'd be strong and that was what mattered. Agatha took a gulp and immediately felt it burn the back of her throat. It tasted like old soap, and she wondered why anyone would ever drink it for pleasure, but luckily that wasn't the reason she was here. She'd never had alcohol before. Ever. It was one thing she'd avoided at all costs, and yet here she was. It wasn't even like it was legal now due to the prohibition, but somehow that just made her feel empowered. She didn't have to be 'little Miss perfect' any longer.

…

Half an hour later, Agatha had finished her drink and was beginning to feel a little more comfortable. She was almost pleasantly unaware of what was going on around her, and she was kind of feeling better. Kind of. Agatha wanted another drink, though. Thoughts that she would really rather not have were still going round and round in her head. She could still think perfectly clearly and that wasn't at all what she had been aiming for. Not to mention the fact that as long as she was sober, she would feel guilty about being here, and right now that just added to the mix of feelings she really didn't want. It was weird, but Agatha was already starting to feel a strong sense of sympathy for her mother's drinking. She ordered another drink.

And somehow, without Agatha really knowing how, one more turned into two, and then three, and so on until suddenly, it was after twelve and she was still sat in the same place. Gradually, everything had become extraordinarily blurry, and although she was still feeling emotions, she couldn't quite remember where they came from. All she knew was that as long as she kept drinking she'd be okay. Nothing could harm her. She was safe. How or why, she couldn't say, but she just knew.

Abruptly, she felt a hand on her arm, and she looked up from her latest glass unsteadily. Agatha could vaguely make out the form of a man she _thought_ she recognised, although she wasn't very sure. She stood up to speak, staggered majorly, and fell right into him. Luckily, he was strong enough to hold her up. Agatha tried to focus on his face, but nothing would stay still long enough for her to experience any sudden recognition. Hazily, she was aware that most of the other people here had gone, and she started to feel a little scared, although why, she wasn't sure. She was also beginning to feel dizzy and slightly sick and she wanted to go home. Still clinging to the man for support, she looked up at his face carefully, and he gave her what she thought was a smile. "I'm shutting this place up for the night, love. Do you have a way home?"

Agatha nodded. "... I… Am in charge of the girls' orphanage down the road…" It came out slurred and unclear, but luckily for her the man, who she was involuntary using as her only form of balance, worked here and he was used to it.

"And do you think you can get there?" he asked, looking a little concerned.

"Yeah." She sounded confident but in actual fact she wasn't even certain she could remember the way home. The man raised his eyebrows, and Agatha nodded indignantly, before promptly collapsing into him again. He rolled his eyes and picked up her purse from the bar, handing it to her. "Come on. I'll take you home. It isn't that far and I'm sure we don't want the police to find you like this."

"Like what?!"

"Honey, you can't walk straight. You're drunk as hell, and it's the middle of the night. I'm not having you walk back alone."

Agatha didn't have the energy to argue, and instead just continued to lean on him as he led her out. The fresh air was a massive relief, and although she was still feeling quite gross, it somewhat improved as they got out of the stuffy room. It didn't take long for them to get to the front door of the orphanage. There was a street lamp near, and it lit up the steps nicely. Agatha smiled at the man, thankful that she was back safe, and he gave her a smile in return. "Don't think I don't have some idea of what a woman your age is doing spending the whole night drinking alone. Look after yourself, okay?"

Agatha nodded and absentmindedly felt for the place where her cheek still hurt, and suddenly she remember everything. Everything about her brother, why she shouldn't drink, all the usual crap. She fumbled for her keys in her purse, just wanting to go to sleep and then, when she eventually found them, she spent about five minutes trying to get the key in the lock, before her companion gently put a hand on hers, and took the key, unlocking the door for her. Strangely, Agatha didn't want him to leave. Then she'd be left alone with her own thoughts again. Suddenly, she did something she would never ever have done sober. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. It felt amazing, but as soon as she'd done it, she knew she'd made a mistake. She let go quickly and stepped back, unsure of what to say. He gave her an awkward smile. "Are you okay from here?"

Agatha gave a slow nod. "... I'm sorry… I didn't… I mean… Thank you for taking me home."

"No problem. Now, you go get some rest."

Agatha nodded again and stumbled inside, shutting the door quickly behind her. Well, that wasn't exactly what she'd expected from a first kiss (and yes, it was ridiculous that she was forty and that had been the first time, but she pretended that wasn't relevant). She staggered into her room, now feeling very dizzy again. She sat on the bed, and sighed. At least she didn't know him. That way she'd never have to see him again. He'd been so nice and she'd been so silly. Suddenly, Agatha felt like she was going to be sick. She stood up and somehow managed to get to the bathroom, and made it just in time.

A minute later, Agatha wiped her mouth on her sleeve and leant back against the bathroom wall, feeling weak and dizzy and confused and tired. She didn't like being sick at all. It disgusted her, and it always reminded her of when she was younger and her mother had come home very late, barely able to stand, and was always always sick. And here she was, in almost the same situation. Agatha pulled her knees up close to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, beginning to cry again. She was very, very tired, she had a headache, and she was also beginning to shiver. Agatha forced herself to focus, and with an enormous amount of effort, managed to half stagger, half crawl to her bed. She climbed in and curled up under the covers, without even taking off her shoes and, almost thankfully, passed out immediately.

…

Agatha woke up the next morning with the most awful headache she'd ever had. It felt like her head was about to split in two, and although she tried opening one eye to glance at the time, it hurt so much that she simply shut it again, and buried her face in the pillow. So this was what a hangover felt like. No wonder her mother had avoided leaving her room so often in the mornings. Agatha didn't think she'd even be able to cope with basic movement for a little while. The thought that she had to get up and make breakfast for over twenty noisy children made her feel like screaming. And she was still confused. On one hand she felt awfully guilty for last night, but on the other hand, from what she could remember (which wasn't much) it had allowed her to forget who she was for the evening, and that had definitely made all the other awful things worth it. Except maybe the hangover. She did, however, remember kissing the man who had brought her back, and the thought made her want to curl up and never move again. It made her cringe so badly. Certainly, though, alcohol and lack of loud children had done wonders to her mental state for most of the night.

Just as Agatha was seriously considering going back to sleep, there was a loud knock on her bedroom door. She uttered a groan. "Who the hell is it?"

She heard the door creak open and then Pepper's bold voice. "Miss Hannigan, it's me. Sophie told me to say that it's almost time for them to leave for school and they need breakfast!"

Agatha opened one eye to look at Pepper, who was looking genuinely confused by the fact that she was still in bed.

"Tell Sophie to get her own goddamn breakfast for once," Agatha muttered tightly.

Pepper's brown eyes opened wider. She'd never heard Agatha curse before. She cautiously took a step closer. "Miss Hannigan, are you sick? Do you want water?"

Agatha gave her a forced smile. "Water would be nice."

Pepper went quickly into her bathroom, and Agatha managed to push herself into a sitting position, leaning back against the wall and clutching her head weakly. She had quite possibly never felt more dreadful. She was feeling sick again and the light streaming in from her small window was painful as hell. Pepper came back in, carrying a glass of water, which she handed to Agatha with a solemn smile. "Did you go to the bar?"

Agatha almost choked on her water. "Excuse me?"

"It's just my Daddy always came back from the bar smelling like you do now, and he _always_ brought home another lady. She was very pretty, but my Mommy hated her. I think that's why she died." Pepper gave her a sad smile.

Agatha felt her heart suddenly ache for the little girl, and she held out a hand to Pepper, who took it and gave it a squeeze. Agatha smiled at her as best she could. "My Daddy did that too… You know what, Pepper I don't think it's a very good thing to talk about. I don't really like it much. But I'll tell you one thing. Never give anyone, especially men, the power to hurt you. You're special and don't let anyone make you feel otherwise."

Pepper nodded seriously. "So you didn't go to the bar then?"

Agatha paused. "... No, not exactly. Bars are illegal right now, so don't mention it, yeah?" Agatha gave Pepper's hand a squeeze, although she really would have loved it if the girl could just leave. Agatha really didn't feel like communication, and apparently Pepper sensed it, because all the child said quietly was, "Either you're _really_ clumsy, or you gave a man power to hurt _you_ and he hurt your face pretty bad." Then she kept go of Agatha's hand, and gave her a quick kiss on the nose. "I'll tell Sophie to get her own breakfast." And with that, she ran out again.

Agatha was left in a state of shock. The girl was four years old. _Four._ And yet she was already more sensitive than most adults. She wanted to think more on the subject, but she was distracted by the splitting pain in her head again. She did have an idea of how to calm the pain, but it was a very bad one. It might soothe her aching brain, however, and she was pretty desperate. The last time Rooster had visited her before yesterday, he'd left behind a pack of cigarettes, and for some reason she'd kept them, perhaps convincing herself that she'd return them next time he came, or that maybe someone else would want them at some point and it would be a waste. Deep down, though, she knew she'd been saving themselves for a time like this, when her determination was at a low point and she was willing to give in to temptation. She pulled open the drawer in her nightstand and grabbed the packet. She extracted a cigarette, picked up her old lighter which was never far away (it was a useful distraction at times), put the thing between her lips and lit it, only hesitating for a fraction of a second. The minute she'd begun, she realised just how much she'd missed it. Agatha had gone almost eight years without smoking a single cigarette, and now it felt like a massive relief. She gently blew out a cloud of smoke, resisted the urge to cough, and leant back against the wall. Her headache already felt less vicious. Thank god.

…

Agatha had never meant for her going to the speakeasy to be anything more than a one off, but gradually, when she felt especially lonely, or the girls were being particularly loud and annoying, or even just when she was painfully reminded of something which had happened in the past that she'd thought she'd managed to forget, it became a place of sanctuary to her. Somewhere she could escape to, where the hurt she felt regularly was easier to bear, somewhere she felt safe. At first she went there maybe every fortnight, just as a sort of relief. She managed to keep it a secret from any of the kids, which she was proud of. But increasingly, she would go more regularly, sometimes even every night for a week, until eventually she was either drunk or hungover the majority of the time. And then it became too much effort to go out every evening, and so instead Agatha began to make her own. Moonshine, or, called by its more appropriate name, bathtub gin. It was weird, because it had all happened so slowly, over the course of around six months, that Agatha hadn't really noticed how dependent upon drink she was becoming. Neither did she realise the effect it was having in her behaviour. She became irritable, touchy, angry. Most of the time almost completely out of it. The children who had once trusted and respected her began to fear for being yelled at or punished unfairly. Agatha had broken a barrier she'd put up from the very first time she had become aware of her mother's drinking, and everything else had followed, just like she had been afraid it would. She knew what people said about her. They called her disgraceful, good-for-nothing, disgusting. She'd almost given up caring. Funny how they seemed to be so interested in her now she wasn't sober. It was like suddenly, her problems were the business of everyone she talked to. People avoided her like the plague, and she supposed they had good reason. Agatha Hannigan the drunk. That was who she was now. Because that was all she was, apparently. A drunk. Nothing more.


	9. Forty-Six

November 14th 1930. Friday. It had been for almost an hour. Agatha's forty-sixth birthday. She was sat on her couch, watching the clock tick, alone. Obviously she didn't expect anyone to wish her happy birthday at one in the morning, but the time was almost irrelevant. It could have been one in the afternoon for all the difference it would have made. Glancing at the empty shot glass in front of her, she debated over whether she should go to bed. She'd regret it in the morning if she didn't, but somehow sleep didn't seem like an option she wanted to go with. She looked at the glass again. Strictly speaking, gin wasn't even supposed to be taken in shots, but that didn't bother her. God only knew how many she'd taken tonight. Five? Six? Ten? All she was aware of was that sooner or later she was going to pass out, so she might as well continue until then. Agatha lifted up the bottle of gin and refilled the shot glass, her hand trembling ever so slightly as she did so. Setting down the bottle, she ran a hand through her rather knotted, messy hair and braced herself for another dose of alcohol. She picked up the glass, downing the contents in one, before putting it back on the table. She was almost immune to the disgusting taste by now. Then, Agatha carefully put the lid back on her bottle. Maybe she had had enough for tonight, anyway, but she didn't want to sleep. The early hours of the morning were her favourite time, and more often than not, she could be found wide awake at this time. Agatha glanced at herself in the mirror. Her hair (which recently she'd had cut shorter and dyed red because she'd decided she might as well go the whole way and change everything) was thick and unkempt, and her makeup was a complete mess. "Story of my life," Agatha muttered to herself, shrugging off the thin bathrobe she'd had wrapped around her for most of the evening. She put a hand over her mouth to stifle a rather indelicate alcohol-induced belch, and sighed. Maybe she would go to bed after all. She _was_ quite tired. Collapsing onto her bed, she curled up to face the wall and it wasn't long before she finally passed out.

…

Agatha was woken up again barely three hours later by the ringing of the doorbell, and she opened her eyes slowly to glance at the time. Four-thirty in the morning. Who the hell was ringing the bell at this hour? She groaned and rolled out of bed, slipping on the bathrobe which was still hanging on the back of her chair. Her head hurt something dreadful and she still felt drunk as all hell. Agatha stumbled groggily to the front door, pulling on the hall light as she went past it, and flung it open perhaps more violently than she had intended. "Yeah?"

On the doorstep was a big policeman, holding the hand of a tiny girl, who looked absolutely terrified. As soon as she saw Agatha, she shrunk back, clinging to the police officer's hand. The officer, whom Agatha hadn't seen before, was rather younger and more attractive than most she came across, but the way he cleared his throat made it clear that he was here for business only. "Miss Hannigan, I assume?" He enquired briskly.

Agatha gave him a short nod, deciding she should probably at least try and pretend to be interested in the little girl.

"This is Molly. She's four years old and her parents were killed in a car crash last night. She ain't got much stuff, just a couple toys." He handed Agatha a bag, and she took it, forcing a smile. "Luckily for her, I have just about enough space. You can leave her to me, officer." Agatha somehow managed to keep the slurring in her voice to a minimum, and the policeman decided her appearance and manner was probably just because she was tired. He smiled and gave the little girl's hand a squeeze, before watching as the girl reluctantly followed Agatha inside.

As soon as Agatha had shut the door, Molly began to cry. She was scared as hell. Only the night before, she'd been happily awaiting a vacation with her family, and now she was here in this shabby orphanage with a woman who looked like she would yell at any opportunity. Agatha felt a stirring of sympathy for the poor girl. She bent down in front of her and gave her a gentle smile. If she'd have been more drunk, Agatha probably _would_ have yelled at the kid for crying, but thankfully, it was still fairly early. Molly looked carefully at Agatha's face, not sure whether to trust her. Evidently she decided she _did_ trust her, because she raised up her arms, clearly demanding for Agatha to lift her up, which Agatha did with some difficulty. Then, she carried Molly upstairs to the older room, which was the only place there was any room at all. She knew that Pepper especially would be annoyed at her for leaving them with a four-year-old, but she didn't exactly have much choice. Thanks to the Depression, the entire place was packed. When Agatha went into the dormitory, she found Annie sat reading a book. It was past four in the morning, and the girl should definitely have been asleep. Agatha cleared her throat as she as she entered, and Annie immediately jumped and quickly hid the book. "Miss Hannigan, I couldn't sleep. That's why I was reading. I heard the doorbell and…"

"Yeah, alright, whatever. I'll let you off just this once." Agatha couldn't be bothered to start an argument now.

Annie looked surprised, but simply glanced at Molly, who was clinging onto Agatha for dear life. Not something many kids were brave enough to do. "Who's that?"

Agatha pried Molly off her and set the girl down on the floor, ignoring her protests. "Molly. She's…" Agatha paused to think. "... Four? Now look after her. You know the drill."

Annie nodded and gave the younger girl a friendly smile. Agatha decided maybe she should leave before she did anything too sentimental, so she just left Molly with Annie and went back to her room.

Agatha knew that there was no point in going back to sleep. She would only be awakened after an hour or two by some other child. Instead, she went into her office and shoved Molly's file into the messy cabinet. She'd read it another time. Then, she went back into her room, lit a cigarette, and picked up the almost-empty bottle of gin from the night before. Agatha clumsily unscrewed the lid and finished it off in one swig. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she set down the empty bottle again and put the cigarette between her teeth. She opened her purse and wondered vaguely if she had enough to go out and buy herself anything. Ten dollars. Well, that would pay for cigarettes and possibly a new pair of stockings if she was lucky. How exciting. She moodily shoved the money back in her purse, before grabbing the bottle and going into the bathroom to refill it to the brim with drink. Agatha took a gulp from it, stumbling back into her room and replacing it down on the table. Somehow, she managed to knock the shot glass she'd been using last night onto the floor, where it smashed. Agatha swore at no one in particular, bending down to pick up the pieces. She managed to cut her finger in the process, which made her swear again, and then she just sighed, put the broken pieces of glass on the table, and sat down on the bed, wiping her bleeding finger on a tissue. Her day was going so well already.

…

"For _God's_ sake, stop the never ending squabbling!" Agatha yelled at Annie and Pepper, after she'd been brought upstairs again at six by the sound of the two girls shouting. She was really not in the mood. Annie shot Pepper a glare. "She made Molly cry! She said that Molly was a baby and that she-"

"She _is_ a baby!" Pepper cut in, glaring back.

"I said cut it out," Agatha grumbled, scowling at both of them and massaging her head. The pair fell silent and both looked at each other a little guiltily. Agatha took a long drink from her bottle of gin and sighed. "Now. Can I expect you both to behave civilly to one another, or do I have to separate you?"

Pepper stepped forwards defiantly. "Miss Hannigan, she'll be so loud and wet the bed and she's too little to help with anything and-"

"I do not wet the bed!" Molly said indignantly, coming forwards and unexpectedly grabbing Agatha's hand. Agatha was too surprised to shake her off at first and Molly looked up at her with big innocent eyes which made her a little uncomfortable. "Miss Hannigan, I don't wet the bed!"

Agatha glared at her, ignoring her plaintive stare and shaking off her hand. "You better not. And Pepper, this is the only bed left in this dump, so you're stuck with her."

Pepper scowled. "You promised that-"

"Yeah, I've promised loads of things. I lied."

Pepper opened her mouth to protest, but Agatha help up a hand. "Alright, I want this place spotless before you go to school this morning, you understand?"

They all nodded sullenly, knowing it was futile to protest. Agatha had a gulp of gin and pointed to the mess on the floor. "You can start with that." Then, she stumbled out of the room and back downstairs.

…

Quite a bit later, after all the girls had gone to school, Agatha was interrupted halfway through getting dressed by the ringing of the doorbell. She groaned. Who the hell would be calling now? It wasn't laundry day, she wasn't expecting any post, and barely anyone came to actually adopt children. She had no idea who it was, and honestly she didn't really care so long as she could get rid of them quickly. She threw on one of the wraps floating around her room, guessing she should probably go and answer it in something other than her lingerie. Then she had a quick swallow from her bottle and stumbled to the front door. She fumbled for the handle and yanked it open. The colour drained from her face as she saw Rooster stood on the doorstep, leaning casually against the doorframe. Right. No, she wasn't drunk. She could act sober. That was fine. She wouldn't give him any money this time, and he wouldn't be able to tell and it would be fine. In all honesty, she'd rather hit her head against a brick wall than talk to him, but that wasn't really an option. It was her _birthday_ as well. _How_ was this fair? She doubted he'd come to wish her many happy returns. She pulled herself up as straight as she could and gave him a noncommittal smile. "Hello."

Rooster flashed her a grin. "Sis, how are you?"

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Never been better. Fresh outta jail?"

He shrugged. "When am I not?"

"What do you want?"

Rooster smirked and stepped inside. "Let's go in the office, shall we?"

Agatha made a vague protest but he ignored her and she ended up just following him in. He sat down in her chair and put his feet up on her desk, lighting a cigarette. Agatha scowled at him and sat down in the chair opposite, folding her arms. "Well?"

"So you see, Aggie, I did just get outta sing-sing and I was just-" He stopped abruptly and looked vaguely confused.

Agatha raised an eyebrow. "What?"

He wrinkled up his nose and gazed at her. "I… You… Have you been drinking?"

Agatha swallowed. "... What makes you think that?"

"You smell of moonshine."

She squirmed uncomfortably. "Maybe."

His eyes widened. "Are you _drunk_?!"

Agatha looked defensive. "No," she said defiantly.

"My _God_ , you are. Agatha Hannigan, it's ten in the morning. Little early to be hitting the bottle, don't you think?"

Agatha bit her lip and glared at him. "Leave me alone."

"What the hell caused this mess?!" He looked genuinely confused and suddenly, Agatha was angry. _How_ could he not realise? She gave him the most hate-filled look she could muster and snatched the cigarette out of his mouth. "Alright, you know what?! If you don't know, then I really pity you. You sit there so smug and confident, like you have no idea. No feelings. Remember when you spent your whole time moaning about how perfect I was? Well congratulations, you've succeeded in screwing me over so far that I'm probably never gonna be perfect to anyone ever again, including myself. Look at me. I'm a mess. You come in here every so often, you take my money, make me feel like shit, and then bugger off until you next need me. I am so _freaking_ fed up with you and your goddamn gangster appearance. And I'm not the only person you've screwed over either. You mess with every single woman you date, and that isn't fair. I mean, for god's sake, at least I'm used to it. But you're lazy arrogant and selfish and I hate you. It'd be easier if you just stayed in jail. Piss off."

Rooster looked amazed. "So. Alcohol makes you angry then, does it?"

" _You_ make me angry. I mean it. Get lost."

Rooster simply laughed. "Alright, Agatha. Okay. You've had your moment. Now let's move on."

Agatha opened her mouth to protest, but no sound came out. Instead, she just kind of choked. Had she had no impact whatsoever? Did he not feel some sort of regret or at least hurt that she'd talked to him like that? She began to feel incredibly hurt. She was used to people not taking her seriously, but it still pained her every time it happened, and somehow it stung more with Rooster. She took a deep breath and began to fidget with her hands. "Please, just let me be, Roost. _Please_. I don't even have the money for more than a pack of cigarettes at the moment, let alone spare for you," Agatha pleaded desperately.

Rooster raised his eyebrows at her. "Alright, let's not lie. I know how much alcohol costs. And if you're as drunk as you appear, then you must've spent a fairly reasonable amount. By the way, I thought maybe you were the one person in the family that was better than this."

Agatha just looked at her hands. He wasn't wrong. "Like mother, like daughter, right? And I don't have any cash left."

For the first time, Rooster gave her a less than friendly look. "I need money, Agatha. I'm not here for fun."

"Well maybe you should get a job," Agatha muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Rooster stood up furiously, his quick temper apparently rising to the surface. Agatha was certain that he would have hit her right there and then if there hadn't been a knock on the door at the exact moment he'd pushed back his chair. Rooster scowled and motioned for her to go and answer it, which Agatha hurriedly did. It was Molly. Agatha was surprised and not pleased. Apart from anything else, she was about to cry, and that definitely wasn't something that she wanted to be seen. "What the hell do you want?"

"Miss Hannigan, I've finished the room, and Pepper said I should ask you what to do next."

Agatha sighed. Of course Pepper would send Molly down here, knowing the likelihood that she would be punished. "I don't _care_ what you do now as long as you stay out of my way."

Molly looked curiously past her at Rooster, apparently not feeling very threatened by Agatha. "Who's _that_?"

Agatha hesitated. "Nobody. Now leave."

Molly however, was far too curious to leave, and pushed past Agatha and went right up to Rooster. "Who are you?"

"Molly, leave right now," Agatha directed, a little desperately and without much conviction. Rooster flashed Agatha a lazy grin and then suddenly grabbed Molly by the arm and lifted up a hand. "Alright, no more kidding around. Ten bucks or the kid gets it."

Agatha looked alarmed. "Don't you dare touch her."

Rooster gave her a blood-chilling smile and squeezed Molly's shoulder tight, making the girl cry out in pain. "Miss Hannigan!"

"Quiet, brat," Rooster commanded, giving her a shake. Molly squeaked and Agatha went very pale. "Let her go."

"Ten buck is my price, Sis."

"She's so small, you can't hurt her."

"Oh, you just watch me."

Molly had started to cry and Agatha couldn't bear to see her hurt, no matter her personal feelings about children. She was tired and drunk and grumpy almost the whole time, but even she wouldn't let this happen in front of her. She hesitated for a second, trying to find a solution other than giving him his way. Rooster squeezed Molly's shoulder and Agatha gave in. "Alright! Fine! Okay! You win. If you let her go, you can have your money."

Rooster smiled and let go of Molly, who stood frozen, looking apprehensively at him as Agatha shakily got the ten dollars from her purse. She handed it to him and he shoved it in his back pocket. Agatha scowled at him. "You goddamn bastard."

Rooster laughed and then unexpectedly slapped her. Hard. Agatha staggered backwards, and had to clutch the filing cabinet to stop her knees from buckling. She looked at her brother with a mixture of hatred and fear.

"That," Rooster said matter-of-factly, "was for making me threaten a child. Oh, and by the way, I do know what day it is. Happy forty-sixth." He smirked and left without another word.

Agatha forced herself to keep the lump in her throat down, and straightened herself up. Dignified. "Molly, you can go now."

"But-"

"I said leave! Go! Bye!"

Molly hesitated and then ran out, shutting the door behind her carefully. Agatha was left alone, and as soon as the door shut, she pulled herself into the chair her brother had just been sat in, and collapsed into it. She started to cry unintentionally, and once she'd started, she couldn't stop. She was in pain. Her face hurt, her finger still hurt from when she'd cut it, and her feelings hurt. Much as she tried, much as she told herself that she was a grown woman and that she was being ridiculous, she couldn't stop her tears and ended up just letting them fall until they ran out. She had thirty or so young lives in her hands, and she could barely look after herself. She was desperate for reassurance, validation, care. As much as she liked to pretend she didn't need anyone, Agatha was lonely. Who was she kidding? She had no-one. She literally only had alcohol. Reaching for he flask, she unscrewed the cap and drained the contents. Although drinking the entire thing in one go made her feel sick, it completely wiped out her brain, and that was what she wanted. She passed out.

…

When she finally came to, it was nearly eight in the evening. Agatha guessed that lack of sleep mixed with the fact that she'd probably drunk just under two bottles of alcohol in a day had caused her to stay out of it for so long. Unsurprisingly, her head was pounding and she was craving a drink. She reached out a hand for her flask and was disappointed to find it empty. Agatha slowly sat up properly, ignoring the pain in her head, and looked around a little blearily, waiting for everything to come into some vague form of focus. She pulled herself into a standing position and clung onto the back of the chair whilst she got her balance. Upstairs, she could hear the girls making a load of noise, but she didn't have the energy to go and sort them out. Instead, she simply went to the bottom of the stairs and yelled at the to shut up. Thankfully, they were sufficiently scared of what she'd do if they weren't quiet (even though realistically she wasn't in a state to do _anything_ more than yell) and they stopped immediately. Agatha staggered back into her room and through to the bathroom. She gave her face a splash with cold water in order to make herself feel a little more awake, and then filled up another bottle with gin. She went to sit on her bed and took a long swig, experiencing a sense of relief as the drink entered her system. Agatha was feeling pathetic. Her face was still tear-stained and her bruised cheek reminded her mercilessly of just how weak and scared she felt. Why could she never say no? And it had been in front of Molly as well. The silly kid had already seen her in a moment of weakness and she'd only been here a day. She doubted the girl would ever take her seriously again after this.

Pulling out a cigarette, Agatha absentmindedly felt in her purse for her money, before remembering. She forced herself to think about something else. She lit the cigarette and took another long drink of gin. Glancing at the clock, Agatha groaned as she realised it was only half eight. She gulped back yet another mouthful of alcohol and sighed. "Happy birthday me," she muttered, taking a drag on her cigarette. Honestly, she'd be surprised if she didn't die of alcohol poisoning overnight, judging by the amount she'd drunk today. It might be easier if she did.

…

Agatha was awakened the next day by a knocking on her bedroom door. Well, she was alive. To say she felt hungover was an understatement. She genuinely didn't think she'd be able to move without being sick. She opened an eye, looked at the clock, saw it was only five, and shut it again, praying that if she ignored it maybe whoever it was would just go away. When, five minutes later, it became clear they weren't going anywhere, Agatha dragged herself out of bed, threw on something to cover her nightwear (which was literally lingerie), and made her way slowly to the door and yanked it open. "Yeah?"

Standing outside, shivering in her thin cotton nightdress with a tear-stained face, was Molly. She was clutching a toy rabbit tightly and looked alarmed when Agatha flung open the door. "Miss Hannigan, I had a nightmare," she whispered, looking frightened.

Agatha sighed and felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She ignored it. "What do you expect me to do?"

Molly sniffed. "My Mama always hugged me and sang to me when I had nightmares."

Agatha raised an eyebrow. "Oh she did, did she? Well I ain't your mother."

Molly looked shy. "Hug me still?"

Agatha snorted. "Go back to bed."

"... Don't you want a hug too?"

"Not from you. Let me sleep and go bother Annie instead."

Molly looked sad. "Miss Hannigan, does your face still hurt?"

Agatha went quiet. "... Don't mention it, understand? To anyone. Promise me?"

Molly nodded solemnly and then paused. "If you hug me?"

Agatha hesitated and then sighed. "We have a deal, kid."

Molly smiled and flung her arms around Agatha's legs. Agatha grabbed the doorframe to stop herself from falling over and gritted her teeth. "Alright, you've had your hug, now go upstairs. And I never want to hear about your nightmares again, understand?"

Molly almost protested, but she realised by the expression Agatha was giving her that it was no longer a matter for debating. She went back upstairs. Agatha watched her, a little confused. Why the hell was anyone so desperate for her to hug them anyway? She stank of alcohol and smoke, she yelled at them constantly, and she was just generally not a nice person. She went into the bathroom and wet a cloth for her head, before pouring herself a glass of gin. The moment she took a sip, she felt the nausea return, and had to hurriedly put the glass down in order that she wasn't sick on the floor.

A couple of minutes later, she wiped her face with the cloth, sitting on the bathroom floor and shivering. She didn't like being sick, and it didn't happen very often because she'd built up a fairly good alcohol resistance, but when she drank this much, it was an unfortunate side effect. She gazed up at the calendar subconsciously, and then swore. It was laundry day. And she'd forgotten again. Well, at least she was awake. She'd give the girls a wake up call just as soon as she could gather the motivation to move.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, Agatha flung open the door to the dormitory and yanked on the light. "Alright, all of you up. Strip the beds and tidy this place up."

They all made various different noises of complaint, but Agatha was not in the mood to put up with _anything._ "The hell are you whining about?! I said get up!"

They all reluctantly rolled out of bed and began to get dressed. All, that was, except Pepper, who stayed put. Agatha staggered over to her and pulled off the covers. She could vaguely make out Pepper scowling up at her, but she was too hungover to care. "Did I or did I not say get up?!"

Pepper sat up and glared more. "It don't exactly take two hours to strip a bed."

Agatha glared right back. "Does it look like I care?!"

"You're a mess, Miss Hannigan. Go back to sleep. Work on that hangover."

"You looking for a slap, kid?" Agatha threatened, holding up her hand. She knew she'd never hit Pepper, but it worked just the same. The girl reluctantly climbed out of bed and pulled on a sweater. Agatha nodded, satisfied. "Good girl."

…

"I've had things with loads of people, you're not special." Agatha glared at the laundry man fiercely. The kids hadn't brought out the sheets yets, and Agatha had gone out just to let him know they were coming. Mr. Bundles had taken this opportunity to remind Agatha of a fling they'd had a couple of months ago, but Agatha was in an appalling mood, and it wasn't going well. Normally she was fairly mild at this time of day, but she was hungover and feeling sick, and altogether not a happy bunny. And she wasn't about to hide it.

"Aggie…" He went to awkwardly pat her shoulder, but she slapped his hand off. "That's Miss Hannigan to you and _don't_ touch me."

Mr. Bundles sighed, but was saved having to answer by the appearance of Annie and Pepper pushing the laundry cart down the steps. He hurriedly went to help them, whilst Agatha straightened herself out slightly and glared after him. He had some nerve bringing that up after more than two months of not mentioning it. Well, she was over it. It didn't bother her in the slightest. And she hadn't been lying when she'd said she'd had things with loads of others as well. Whilst she was drunk, she just seemed to find romance a lot easier. She tended to forget how awkward and unattractive she was and just go for anything and everything, which was probably why people called her a slut. To be fair, it wasn't a lie. But so what? She didn't care what people thought. Why would she care what people thought? It didn't matter that people talked behind her back. She was fine with it. Completely fine. Let them talk. She didn't mind. Not at all. It just made her angry that people would quite happily gossip about her, and yet all the men she'd been with got off easy as.

Agatha realised she'd been staring into space, and she gave herself a shake. She could blurrily make out… Three? Four? Maybe even five girls, all looking at her from the door. Mr. Bundles had apparently gone without saying goodbye. She couldn't blame him. She scowled. "What are you all waiting for, go get cleaning. Or get ready for school. Or whatever."

"Miss Hannigan, it's Saturday," Pepper said, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, so?"

"So no school?"

Agatha groaned. Great. She was stuck with them all day. "Damn. Alright, so clean."

"The place is spotless. We've cleaned every single day this week, Miss Hannigan," Annie muttered.

Agatha raised an eyebrow. "Spotless, huh?"

"You could eat your goddamn dinner off it," Pepper grumbled.

"Alright, then just get out of my sight."

The children all ran inside at this, grateful for the opportunity to do something other than cleaning. They hadn't been given free time in awhile.

Meanwhile, Agatha went back into her room and turned on the radio. It was comforting to have another adult voice, even if it was just a radio presenter. She kicked off her shoes and sat down, struggling to come up with something to do that she would actually be able to concentrate on. It was weird to have spare time so often. It was probably because she neglected most of things she should be doing. She wasn't able to concentrate on them much anyway; most of the time she tried sorting out files, her vision was too blurry and she just gave up. She hadn't picked up a book in almost three years, and there wasn't all that much else she could actually do. When she'd first started working here, she'd gotten so excited at finally having some money to spend that she'd let it go to her head and she'd bought the first pretty thing she came across, which had happened to be an old second-hand piano, just because she could. Agatha had managed to teach herself the basics, and had been able to bash out a decent tune here and there, but now her hands were normally too shaky to play, and anyway, she couldn't focus on the keys and the noise hurt her head. She'd been tempted to sell it multiple times, but she could never quite bring herself to get rid of it. It was a now silent reminder of when she'd actually been a functioning human being. Occasionally the girls would sneak in and mess around on it, and Agatha would yell at them, more because she didn't like to be reminded of the things it stood for than because she was actually angry at _them._ She wasn't _really_ angry at the girls often. Gin made her angry. No, that wasn't true. Her parents made her angry and her brother made her angry and her general life situation made her angry. What the gin did was make her lose the ability to control this anger. The anger at her family, at her life, at _herself._ She took it out on the girls and she knew it wasn't fair but she'd sort of given up caring. Life wasn't fair. The sooner they learned that, the better. And so what if it meant they didn't like her? They didn't need to like her, because she was temporary in their lives, and they were temporary in hers. Sixteen years at the most, and then she'd never see them again. They'd be gone, they'd get a job, a life, maybe a family. She was just an irrelevant part of their lives, one they all wished hasn't happened. And she couldn't blame them for that. They didn't need to like her. They were fine, they had each other. They didn't need her too.

After an entire morning of listening to the radio and reminiscing, Agatha was determined that she wouldn't spend the rest of the day at the orphanage as well. She was bored of the same four walls. She made the orphans a rushed lunch to distract herself, and then she decided that a bit later, she'd go to the speakeasy. She hadn't been in a while and she needed someone to talk to, even if it was only the man behind the bar. It was better than no-one.

…

"Just pour me another goddamn drink," Agatha slurred, scowling at the barman.

"You've had plenty."

"What is this, a school?! No. It's a goddamn speakeasy and I'll have as much as I want. Now pour the _freaking_ drink or I'll do it for you."

The barman sighed and poured her another glass of gin, pushing it across the bar. Agatha picked it up and slid another couple of dollars at him. She'd been here since four, and she'd spent far too much, but she was beyond noticing. It was so good to get away from the orphanage and from the children.

"You're not gonna be able to make it home if you have anymore," the barman stated gently, observing Agatha's unsteady countenance. She gave him a glare. "I keep you in work, don't I? So quit lecturing or I'll go somewhere else."

"I know I'm breaking the law by being here anyway, but I'm not heartless."

"I don't give a damn what laws you're breaking and I don't care whether or not you've got a heart. So long as you give me my _goddamn_ alcohol when I ask for it, you're okay by me."

He gave Agatha a vaguely amused smile. "Alright, love, whatever you say." He wandered off to talk to one of the other customers, and Agatha decided it was probably time to go anyway. She stood up, staggered, felt suddenly extremely dizzy, and fell on the bar. She swore and pulled herself back up, grateful that it was so dark that no-one had noticed her lack of elegance. She grabbed her purse and managed to stumble out into the street. The night air hit her face at full speed, and brought her to her senses a little bit. It reminded her of the first time she'd come here, six years ago. It felt like a lifetime ago. She'd been a different person. Good, hard-working, a little messy at times, and altogether imperfect, but she'd tried. Very hard. Maybe too hard. And look at what she'd ended up as: a single middle-aged drunk. Agatha realised with a jolt something which she hadn't known before. She wasn't the same as her mother. She was worse. A lot worse. But she just didn't know how she was ever going to get better. She was stuck. Drunk, with no money, no family who cared, and no skills. It was weird, but it was only then that it properly hit her. Maybe things would never get better. Maybe she'd just die like this, hopeless and alone. It was at that moment that Agatha made up her mind. She was giving up. She was tired of fighting. Her whole existence had been a fight, but she was through with that. She honestly couldn't care less if she lived or died. Maybe it was just time to throw the towel in. If her drinking didn't kill her, then fine. If it did, oh well. No more wasting her time worrying. She'd just take life as it came from now on.


End file.
